Squad 451
by CheerLoveDance
Summary: Thirteen years after Mockingjay, Katniss and Peeta are married with two children. Gale is in District 2 and hasn't been heard from in years. Two tragic events, a victors' reunion in the Captiol, and the oddly-timed return of someone from Katniss's past bring whispers and secrets that are wild enough to spark another rebellion. Some flames never stop burning.
1. Chapter 1

"What is the power the dead have over the ones they leave behind? It's strange and beautiful and frightening, this deathless love that human beings continue to feel for the ones they've lost."

\- Sangu Mandanna

PART I: STRANGER

CHAPTER 1

The crisp air of a fall morning nips at my red ears, hands, and nose as I trudge through piles of leaves in the woods. This kind of weather always reminds me of chilly mornings in November when I was young. Mornings that were spent hunting with someone by my side, looking out for me as I did for him. But we don't hunt together anymore. We haven't for years.

 _Crunch_. A smirk creeps across my face. A single misstep by an animal leads to it becoming my dinner.

I slowly turn around, careful not to make a sound. To my surprise, it's not just one animal, but three rabbits, standing several yards away from me. I pull an arrow into my bow and after taking a moment to make sure my aim is right, I send the arrow straight into the fattest one. The others try to scurry off, but I'm quicker than them. I go over to where each one hit the ground and pick them up, first examining them for any sign of disease, then stuffing them into my pack. Looks like it's time to go.

I walk through the overgrown grass of the meadow and duck under the weak spot near the bottom of the fence. The spot closest to my old house in the Seam. It was nearly destroyed when they bombed the district, but now and again I still stop by. I decide to visit today.

When I get to the house, I say hi to Dandelion, Buttercup's only kitten. Turns out that after years of thinking Buttercup was a male, it was female all along. Buttercup died a few years ago, but Dandelion has replaced him. I named him Dandelion because of his yellow fur that reminds me of the beautiful flower. It just so happens that I saw Dandelion for the first time shortly after my wedding. I was still mourning over Prim, but seeing that darned Buttercup with one of its own reminded me that I could start over without Prim. That she would want me to.

Anyway, Dandelion was pretty much raised here, same as Buttercup was, so he likes to reside here. I check up on him every couple of days to make sure he's getting enough water. He's a pretty good hunter; I don't have to worry much about feeding him.

One thing I always do when I come to the house is walk from room to room. Nothing ever changes, but I feel like I have to keep things up. It keeps the memories close. I always go to our tiny den first. There's nothing much to see here except the half-crumbled wall and the picture of my father that miraculously still hangs above the mantel. Next, I go to Prim's room, where I used to sing her back to sleep when she had nightmares. Her room never fails to choke me up. You can almost feel her presence.

I wrap up my visit by filling Dandelion's water bowl. He comes running through what used to be the bathroom doorway. I bend down to pet his head, causing him to pur. I laugh at him.

"At least you're nicer than Buttercup," I say, then give him one last pat on the head.

The sun is not quite fully risen as I head back to my house. On my way home, I pass by the homes of some friends who are just waking up and beginning their daily routine. I could be sleeping in too, until six or seven o'clock like everyone else, if I wanted to. But I've always been an early riser. Just as the moon and the sun meet each other in the sky, right when dawn breaks, is when I'm most alive. It's when District 12 is most beautiful.

By the time I get inside, the kids are already up.

"Good morning, mommy," my son says. He's always the first one to greet me in the mornings. I smile down at him as he embraces me. He looks up at me with a smile that stretches across his chubby face. His short, blonde, wavy hair, as well as his baby-like face and tiny nose, are like looking into a mirror at Peeta.

"Hey, Willy," I reply happily. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Mhmm," he answers. "And I brushed my teeth just like daddy."

"Well, aren't you getting responsible?" I look down and notice he's still in his pajamas. I'm about to say something when Peeta rounds the corner. He smiles when he sees me, then crouches down beside his miniature version.

"Willard, I'm proud of you for doing what I asked, but you forgot to put on your clothes," Peeta tells him.

Willard looks between the two of us and then puts up his pinkie. "One second!" he announces before taking off to his room.

"Wrong finger!" Peeta calls after him, laughing.

"He'll learn," I say.

"Why don't you come sit down and tell me what's for dinner?" Peeta asks. He leads the way to the kitchen, then sits across from me at the table. I pull one of the rabbits out of my game bag to show him what I shot.

"Three of these and a squirrel," I say.

He takes the rabbit from my hand and examines it.

"You didn't skin it yet," he observes.

"Yeah."

He looks up. "Visit day?" he asks.

I simply nod in reply. He hands the rabbit back and I stuff it back in my bag.

"I've got some things to do today, so I'll probably get Thom to come over and clean the game for me."

"Why don't you call up Rory or Vick? I'm sure they'd be glad to help."

I give Peeta a blank look.

"It was just a suggestion," he says, putting his hands up in surrender position.

I lean back in my chair and look down at the hands on the table. I fidget with my fingers to distract myself - and hopefully Peeta. He knows what I'm up to, though.

He sighs. "Katniss."

"Don't start on this again," I say.

"You can't avoid their family for the rest of your life."

"Yes, I can," I mumble.

"It's been thirteen years, Katniss. Don't you think you should forgive them now?"

"It's not them that need to be forgiven," I answer.

"Exactly! And we already see Posy twice a week. So what's wrong with seeing Hazelle or the boys?"

"They're not boys anymore, Peeta."

"What does that have to do with anything?" he asks. I stare at him for a few moments, trying to will him to understand my decision, but I can see it's doing no good. I shake my head and stand up. I'm just about to leave the room when Peeta calls out behind me, "You can't avoid him forever, you know."

I stop walking and consider what he said. I'm about to say something back when I realize he's right. I can't avoid them forever. But because I'm stubborn, I walk out of the room anyway.

"Mommy, where's my bookbag?" my daughter asks, stepping out in front of me.

"I don't know, where'd you put it?" I ask.

Peeta appears from the other room with a yellow backpack in hand. "Is this it?" he jokes.

"Yes!" she giggles. She tries to take it from him, but he holds the bag above her head. She laughs even harder as she jumps with her arms stretched as high as they'll go, trying to reach it. After a few minutes of play, he lets her grab it.

"Alright, put on your bookbag. Do you have your lunch?" I ask.

She nods.

"Will!" Peeta calls.

Willard comes running down the stairs with his bookbag in one hand and his lunchbag in the other. "Coming, daddy!" he says.

My daughter, Maysilee, looks at me. "Are you coming to pick me up today?"

"Sure am." I lean down to kiss her head, then Will's. "Have fun."

They both wave to me and say, "Love you!" before racing out the door to see who can get to the sidewalk first.

"Bye, Katniss," Peeta says.

"Bye."

"Remember what I said, please." Then he leaves.

I sigh and go to the living room to sit on the couch. Since the war ended, we've been blessed with television shows besides The Hunger Games. I grab the remote control off of the mantel and turn on the telvision. There's a program on about a girl trying to find her way out of a love triangle. I watch for a few minutes, then quickly change the channel when I realize I'm all too familiar with that story. The next show I find is a cooking show. Boring. I finally settle for watching a documentary on some celebrity I've never heard of.

When the show ends, I walk out of the room to get a glass of water. Once I return, I'm shocked to find that the next documentary is based on someone I've met before. I can barely believe my eyes until the title screen comes up.

"Deserving Documentaries: Gale Hawthorne," it reads.

I snatch the remote from the coffee table and turn off the television completely. It takes me a few minutes to compose myself enough to turn it back on.

The entire hour-long episode briefly touched on his work during the war and rebellion, but was mostly centered around his life afterwards. It felt almost like an invasion of privacy, to be watching a show about his life instead of asking him about it myself.

But I can't do that. It's been thirteen years since the war ended. If he wanted to see me, he would've found a way by now. Or would he?

I shake my head again to clear it. It's not safe to have these thoughts. These questions.

 _My name is Katniss Mellark. I am 30 years old. I am married to Peeta Mellark. We have two children, Maysilee and Willard. They are at school right now. Peeta is at the bakery. Gale is in District 2. I'm not his friend anymore. He doesn't care about me. And I hate him._

At some point during my recollections, I guess I decide to go out, because I'm walking out the front door with my game bag in hand.

I'm making my way down the street with no particular destination in mind when I realize which direction I'm heading. I stop for a moment and sit down on the side of the road, my head in my hands.

 _My name is Katniss Mellark. I'm 30 years old. Peeta is at the bakery. The kids are at school. Gale is in District 2. I will not go to his house._

"Excuse me, are you okay?" says the voice of a man behind me. I turn my head and look at him without seeing his face. The sun's in my eyes and I have to shield my face to see the man. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to the light. When they do, I gasp.

I jump to my feet immediately and look him up and down.

"Katniss?" the man says in disbelief.

"Gale," I say breathlessly. Then my eyes harden.

 _You're supposed to hate him, remember?_

"No," he laughs. "Katniss, remember me? It's Rory."

Confusion and disbelief take over the better judgement that's telling me that this is not Gale.

"Gale's brother," he adds. I continue staring. "Rory Hawthorne?"

"Yeah, I know who you are," I say. I cross my arms and loosen my stance. "How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been fine," he replies. He puts his hands in his pants pockets and leans against a street light behind him, as if he stops to chat with old friends in this very spot all the time. Then he gives the one-of-a-kind Rory smile that I'm glad to see he hasn't lost.

"Yeah? How about your mother and Vick?"

"Mom's fine. She's kept up her friendship with your mom pretty well. I think your mom's at our place right now, actually. Vick's getting too old for his own good. He thinks he's a real hot shot now that he's twenty-five."

Rory and I share a moment of combined laughter.

"So I've seen your kids around. They're cute," he comments.

I smile to myself. "Thanks. They're growing up too fast."

"How old?"

"Maysilee's six, Will's two."

"Oh, that's funny," Rory says. "Lane just turned seven. He's in first grade."

"Maysi is, too. Who's Lane?"

"My nephew," he replies.

"Oh." I briefly wonder who Vick married and if I knew her. I don't ask him for further detail, though. We drift off into silence. I look down at my feet, then see my game bag still sitting on the sidewalk next to me. "Oh! I was actually looking for you . . . sort of. Do you remember how to skin a rabbit?"

He looks at me like that's the most ridiculous question he's ever been asked, then begins to laugh. "Are you kidding? Of course I do! Where's your rabbit?"

I hold up my game bag. "Well, I actually have three. And a squirrel."

He looks through the bag, then back up at me. "You celebrating something?"

"No..." I say, a little confused.

"Then why the big hunting trip?" he asks.

I realize he doesn't know I still hunt. "I still hunt every morning. I know I don't have to, but I'm up anyway."

He nods. "It's okay. I still hunt sometimes, too. It's not the same without Gale, but it's cool. Hey, why don't you walk back to the house with me? I'll get started with your rabbits."

We enjoy a walk to his house filled with conversation. How has everyone been, where's everyone living now, what have we been up to. Casual conversation. It's not until the Hawthorne house comes into view that I tense up. Rory turns and looks at me with a funny look on his face. "You okay, Katniss?"

It takes me a second to find the reason behind my stress. "Yeah, I - is he here?"

He knows who I'm talking about without having to ask. "Nope. Still in Two for now."

I release a sigh of relief. After a minute of composing myself, I ask, "Has he been back?"

"Since the war?" After a shaky breath, he continues. "No. We haven't even heard from him. It's been tough. Especially for Posy. He was always her favorite brother. It was obvious, and Vick and I were okay with it. At first, when we came back to 12, he's all she'd ever ask about. We always told her he'd come home to visit soon. But he never did. He never even called. The years kept passing and eventually, she stopped asking about him. She learned to grow up without him. It kills me to think about it." I see a tear roll down his cheek. He wipes it with his finger. "It makes me wonder if he even cares anymore. Or if he did at all."

"I'm sorry, Rory," I decide to say after debating what was appropriate to say in my head. I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

"It's cool," he says, wiping his face. I let go of him and we continue walking. After several moments of silence, he speaks again. "Have you heard from him?"

I consider saying no, but then I'd be lying. I can count two times when Gale tried to contact me after I moved back to 12. I didn't answer the phone either time. So I say, "Yeah. Only twice. I never answered."

"When?" Rory asks.

"When I first came back. I think you were still in 13 then."

I realize we're about four steps away from their front door. The sun has already set, leaving a blueish-gray sky in its place. I'm distracted again when Rory stops in front of me and says, "I wish you had taken those calls."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you were the only thing keeping him from coming back. He was only going to come back if you were okay. And I guess he got his answer."

* * *

 **A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I haven't written a Hunger Games fanfic in years, so I hope everything is in character. If not, please let me know in your reviews and I'll try to fix it next chapter. Thanks to everyone for reading and here's to hoping I'll write a story that everyone can enjoy!**

 **Please don't forget to review, it really does help to motivate me. The ideas and constructive criticism that my readers give is the most rewarding part of my writing!**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

I stare at Rory, a feeling of guilt rushing through me. If I had picked up the phone and told Gale to come back, he would have. Posy would have grown up with Gale, Rory and Vick would still have the father figure in their lives that Gale became after their real father died, and Hazelle wouldn't have had to continue raising the kids alone. She could've had help. It was my fault she didn't.

I have to take a deep breath to reassure myself.

It's not my fault. I shouldn't have to forgive him. He killed Prim. Rory and the rest of them are getting a piece of how I feel.

I stop myself mid-way through my thoughts. This is wrong. All of it. Why would I want Hazelle to have to continue raising her children alone without Gale's help? I never wanted that for my mother, and I certainly don't want that for Hazelle, who has always been a second mother to me. And why would I want this life for the kids? At least they know that Gale's alive, instead of knowing Prim's dead, but do they really know that? Gale hasn't contacted anyone, so they have no way of knowing how he's doing.

My thoughts are interrupted when Rory walks ahead and holds the back door open for me. When I walk in, I'm greeted by warm, yellow light in the kitchen and three faces staring at me confusedly. When Rory enters behind me, they all give him the same questioning look.

"Ummm," Rory shifts awkwardly under the stares of his family. "You all remember Katniss."

Hazelle is the first one to stand and greet me. She wraps me into a warm hug, and I hug back. I had forgotten how comforting her hugs are.

The next person to greer me is Vick. He grabs Posy's hand and squeezes it.

"You remember Katniss, right?" he asks her.

It takes her a while to fish through her mind for childhood memories of me. I must've been in a lot of them; this place was my second home.

"Yeah," she finally responds.

I can't tell whether she's happy to see me or not though, so I take the first step towards her. She seems hesitant, but once my arms are around her, she returns the hug.

Vick taps impatiently on Posy's shoulder - in a joking manner - and waits his turn. When Posy gets out of the hug, Vick goes straight in.

"It's been too long, sis," Vick says.

When Vick was little, I was constantly at the Hawthorne house with Gale. Vick started to think that I was his sister. When he got older, Hazelle had to explain to him that I wasn't, but Vick continued to call me "sis" even after the fact. The sound of my old nickname brings a smile to my face.

He squeezes me one last time, then pulls away from the hug and holds my shoulders at arm's length, looking me up and down.

"You haven't changed much," he observed. "I assume the baker's boy is keeping you well fed?"

I laugh. "You bet he is."

Hazelle interrupts our reunion. "Katniss, why don't you sit down and have dinner with us tonight?"

I look over to Rory, who has grabbed my game bag and a knife and is starting to head outside.

"Oh, no thanks. I just stopped by because Rory said he could clean up the meat for me. I was going to head home after he's done," I explain.

"Why don't you eat that tomorrow night? Stay with us," she says.

"Really, I can't. I have to get home to the kids. Peeta's probably wondering where I am."

I feel a sudden burst of tension in the room at the mention of Peeta. I can only guess the cause of it.

Hazlle, however, acts oblivious to the mood change. "You can call him and tell him to bring the whole family. I've never formally introduced myself to him, and I'd love to see the kids. Please, Katniss, I insist."

After a moment's hesitation, I oblige. "Okay," I say. "Where's your phone?"

"It's been hanging on the same wall for 20 years, sweetie," she calls from the laundry room, where she's moved to in a matter of seconds.

* * *

Half an hour later, Peeta arrives with a curious Willard in his arms and Maysilee walking with confidently beside him. Hazelle throws open the door the moment she spies them coming up the sidewalk from her view at the window over the sink.

"Hi, welcome," she greets them with a warm smile. "Please come in."

Peeta steps in and puts Will in my arms so as to free up his hand to shake Hazelle's outstretched one.

"I'm Hazelle Hawthorne," she introduces herself.

"Hi, I'm-"

Hazelle puts a hand up to stop him. "I know who you are. I've heard so much about you."

Peeta smiles. "Yes, it's so nice to finally meet you."

I put Willard down and he stands next to me, holding my hand. Will is normally not very shy, but he is now half hidden behind my legs, peeking out from time to time to check if Hazelle is still there. Hazelle crouches down to meet Will's eye level and smiles at him. I feel him squeeze my hand tighter.

"Hi, what's your name?" she asks him.

He shifts so that he's completely hidden behind my legs. Hazelle looks up at me, her eyes silently asking if she did something wrong. I give her a reassuring smile and pick him up. He sits on my hip and hides his face in my hair.

"Willy, this is Miss Hazelle. She's me and your grandmother's friend," I explain to him.

He looks between Hazelle and I hesitantly, as if he's wondering whether to trust her or not. Finally, he gathers the courage to speak to her.

"My name is Will," he says. His young voice sounds more put-together than some adults when he speaks.

"How old are you, Will?" Hazelle asks.

"Mommy says I'm two, but I think I'm almost three."

Will first holds up two fingers, then three, to represent his age. Then, he gets sidetracked and stares at his fingers with the utmost concentration, as if they're a puzzle to be solved.

"He's two and a half," I explain.

Hazelle nods. "Oh. Where did you get his name from?"

"Well," I say, "his full name is Willard Mellark."

"It was my brother's name," Peeta finishes.

"Oh, how sweet," Hazelle says. She gives Peeta another warm smile. "He definitely takes after you."

"He looks more like his uncle," Peeta replies, watching his son play with Vick on the floor. I can't be sure, but I think I saw the sparkle of a tear on his cheek.

Then, Hazelle notices the other child in the room. She looks at Maysilee and asks for her name. When Maysilee responds, Hazelle gasps.

She looks at me in confusion. "Maysilee. As in-"

I nod. "Maysilee Donner. She was the original owner of my mockingjay pin, and she was a close friend of my mother's."

"It was the least we could do, to name our daughter after her," Peeta explains. "There would be no District 12 if it weren't for that pin. We thought it was important to honor her."

"That's such a kind thing to do." Hazelle watches Maysilee, who seems to have already introduced herself to Posy. "She favors you, Katniss. She's almost an exact replica of you as a child. Even the things like her voice, the way she walks, her confidence... you used to be just like her."

I allow myself a moment to wonder how Hazelle can compare Maysilee and myself so closely. She only met me when I was a starving twelve-year-old girl from the Seam, living without a father, and hunting with her also fatherless son to put food on the table every night. But here she is, talking like she's known me my entire life.

I shake my head. Maybe she has me confused with Prim.

Prim.

Her name brings a wave of emotions to the forefront of my mind.

Prim.

For the past few hours, I've been allowing myself to enjoy catching up with my old friends. But because of this, I seem to have forgotten the reason why I've been avoiding them for all these years. It's because of her.

Peeta notices my sudden silence and must somehow be able to see what I'm thinking, to see the all too familiar look of pain in my eyes, because he leans in and whispers in my ear, "She would want this."

As if by some chance, Maysilee sudden catches my eye. I see her sitting in a circle, playing with Vick, Rory, Posy, and Will, all while playing a game of Duck Duck Goose. I was never fond of the game, but Prim used to love it when she was little. It's what prompted me to begin calling her by her nickname, Little Duck. Of course, her untucked shirt tails never helped her case.

While I watch my children and Gale's siblings play Prim's favorite game, I understand what Peeta meant. Of course Prim would want this. She had always been good friends with Rory. And I was told that she used to babysit for Posy while I was away in the Games. Gale was in the mines, Hazelle was making her laundry rounds, and the boys were either hunting or at school, so she was left to care for two-year-old Posy.

If Prim had any idea that I had avoided this family for thirteen years, she would be heartbroken.

I looked at Peeta and nodded. "You're right," I agreed.

He rubs my shoulder with one hand, then goes over to the kids and takes a seat beside Will. I watch as he enthusiastically plays with them, the smile on his face transforming him into a young boy again.

"They're good kids," Hazelle says. I look to my left and see her standing beside me. I didn't notice her before.

"Thanks," I say.

"They remind me a lot of her."

I try to think of a response, but nothing seems fitting, so I nod.

"Watch the way Maysilee shows affection towards everyone, even though she just met us. And Willard is doing the same thing, only his eyes are kinder. It's like she influences them without even being here."

My throat begins to close at the thought of my sister. Why did it take me this long to see how similar in spirit my children are to her?

I must not be hiding my feelings as well as I thought, because Hazelle's face softens when she sees my expression. She puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes it gently.

"It's okay to be sad," she says. She wipes a tear from my cheek with her thumb. "Come outside with me."

Once we're outside, Hazelle leads me to concrete area several feet away from the back door. I gasp when I realize that the place we're now standing was the foundation for their original house.

"Everything okay?"

I nod and take a deep breath to compose myself. It seems like life in District 12 brings a new tragic discovery every day.

Hazelle sits on the concrete and pats the place next to her. I sit.

"Did Gale ever tell you how hard it was when he lost his father?"

I shake my head. We were always careful to stay clear of that topic.

Hazelle releases a breath before speaking. "Him and his father were very close. Gale was the oldest in the house, and also the most like his father. They looked a lot alike, but that's not even the last of it. They liked the same kind of meat, they made the same distorted look when they yawned, they blinked at the same pace - always 8 seconds between each blink - and his father's beat-up boots were always passed down to him, no matter how many sizes too big they were.

"Gale learned to hunt from his father. Timon used to take Gale hunting from the time he turned three until the day Timon died. They would go every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday; the days he didn't work morning shifts. It was their special time, and it was never once interrupted in the eleven years they spent hunting together. When Timon died, a little piece of Gale died, too. He didn't eat for days. Then one day, it was almost like he woke up from a dream and realized that we were starving. I couldn't work with Posy on the way, and the boys were too young to help. So Gale signed up for tessarae, even thought I begged him not to. But he knew that that wasn't enough to keep all five of us alive, so he started going in the woods every morning to hunt. It wasn't long before he met you."

Hazelle smiles. "Do you remember the first time he brought you here?"

I nod. A tiny smile peeks out from the corners of my lips.

"Gale didn't trust you for several months after he met you," Hazelle says. "But I think seeing the way you interacted with the kids reminded him that the two of you were in the same boat. You both were struggling to survive, with families to feed. From that day forward, he never went hunting without you. He valued the time he spent with you every morning. Hunting with you reminded him of those times with his father, and I think it reminded you of the same thing.

"When you were gone, your mother and Prim became his top priority. And that was fine by me; I was proud of him for keeping the commitment he made to you. When he watched you and Peeta in the arena, something changed. He hated the Capitol more than he ever had before. The Games change everyone - or maybe everyone changed and no one noticed until lives were on the line."

A cold shiver runs down my back. Whether because of the cold evening breeze or the mention of the Games, I'm not sure.

Hazelle doesn't seem to notice. "My point in all this is, the Games is what changed you. It's what changed all of us. I think if you could try to forgive Gale, maybe you would find some closure with Prim."

I stare at her, dumbfounded. Does she not know that Gale was Prim's murderer? Surely she must know, or she wouldn't be suggesting reconciliation with him.

I open my mouth to speak, but I can't seem to find words. Hazelle sees this and puts both of her hands on top of mine.

"I spoke to her the day she died."

My mouth falls open. "How-"

She stops me. "Katniss, she knew."

My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

Hazelle looks me dead in the eyes. That's how I know she's telling the truth when she says, "Prim knew she was going to die."

* * *

 **A/N: Hopefully that cliffhanger will leave you wanting more! I only got one review for the last chapter, so I would really love if we could bring that number up for this chapter. Reviews are the one thing that motivates me to continue writing for you guys. Al** **so, thanks to all of my readers! The view count was really high for the last chapter, so thank you to everyone for checking out my story.** **If you wouldn't mind reviewing next time you read, that would be great. Constructive criticism, ideas, and your opinions on the story so far are always appreciated :)**

 **In the next few chapters, we're going to get into some of the first level conflicts, so be ready!**


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

I keep blinking.

Bllinking back tears, blinking back confusion, blinking back anger, blinking to try to somehow solve every question running through my head.

How did Hazelle speak to Prim the day of her death? Why wasn't Prim back in 13 with my mother like she was supposed to be? Speaking of my mother, where was she when Prim died?

But the most important question was the hardest for me to figure out. How did Prim know her own fate?

Everything is going through my head at the speed of light, even though the sky above me is pitch black.

I realize that Hazelle is waiting for me to compose myself before she continues. When I exhale and look at her expectantly, she knows to continue.

"I met her in the hallway on my way back from washing clothes. It was past everyone's waking hours; a little past midnight. She was leaving your family's apartment. I greeted her and she nearly jumped out of her shoes. I had never seen Prim act the way she did that night, like she was scared of being caught for something. I asked her what she was doing awake, and she pulled me into an empty hallway. At that point, I was worried that something was wrong. When I asked her if she was okay, she started crying, telling me that she had to leave 13. I begged her to tell me why, but she refused to say anything. But she did give me this."

Hazelle hands me an envelope with my name written in clean, flowing cursive. The envelope is flimsy from being bent and stuffed under books, and the edges of it have turned a light shade of yellow. I take the envelope and unfold the letter inside. I recognize Prim's handwriting and my heart skips.

 _Dear Katniss,_

 _The events of today may not make sense, but they're happening for a reason. All my life, I've sat aside and watched you fight for the rebels. I'm so proud of you, more proud than you can imagine, but I can't let you do all of the work anymore. I owe too much to these people. Hopefully there are enough people on your side to help you find out what's really been happening all these years. Kat_ _niss, the Capitol isn't your biggest enemy anymore. I know what they have planned and I know that the rebels will win this war, but none of this is over. Some flames never burn out. Remember that._

 _I'm probably going to die tonight. Right now you're wondering what you could've done to save me, but Katniss, the best thing you could've done was exactly what you did. You made it to the Capitol and you followed the plan. Squad 451 is the reason why this war will end in the next few days. If you abandoned your mission to save me, the Capitol would've won._

 _Read this carefully: Gale helped design the bomb that'll go off in front of the Mansion. But remember that Gale's with you, he's not the one who set it off. He has no clue I'm planning to be there when it goes off._

 _It's probably been a while since you saw me last. You're the most stubborn person I've ever known, so I bet it's been a while since you've seen Gale, too. Remember what I said before, Katniss. None of this is his fault._

 _I bet you're married to Peeta now. Maybe you even had kids. I bet they're precious. One day when they're older, tell them that wherever I am, I love them and I can't wait to meet them someday. I'_ _m not sure what mother's doing. She probably moved back to 12, right? Maybe she still knits and reads with Hazelle every afternoon. Whatever your lives are like now, I want you to know that I wish both of you the most happiness in the world. I love you both more than you can ever imagine._

 _Oh, I almost forgot to mention something. I'm sure you haven't had real sleep in more than a decade because your mind won't rest from wondering what happened to me and if I'm okay. I'm fine, Katniss, and so are you. So I'll give you a promise. I promise that when I die, I'll think of happy things. I'll think of the things that have made this life worth the sacrifice I'm making, and things that have made my life worth living. I'll remember all the times when I couldn't sleep and I'd crawl in bed next to you and let you sing me to sleep. I promise to imagine that you're braiding my hair for school, just like you used to every morning. I'll remember the time you and Gale tried to teach me to hunt. And I'll laugh when I get to the part of the story when I shot that tree, and you made that funny aggravated face and stomped off, and me and Gale sat in the woods laughing at you for an hour. And last, but not least, I'll remember all the little things you did to show me that you loved me. They didn't go unnoticed, Katniss. And I can only hope that you have an idea of how much I appreciate what you've done for me. In a thousand lives, I wouldn't deserve a sister like you. I love you more than words can say. No matter what direction you take your life in, I'll always be somewhere watching you. I'll always be your little duck._

 _Love, Prim_

It takes me a moment to process what I read. As I come back to reality, I become aware of the tears streaking my cheeks. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

Hazelle is still next to me, but she stood up at some point while I was reading. Now, she offers me a hand. I take it and she pulls me to my feet. To her surprise, I hug her, holding her tightly.

"Thank you," I say. Then I pull away from her.

She looks at me with something like understanding in her eyes. "I thought you were ready to read that."

I nod and fresh tears wet my face. "More than ready."

* * *

Our dinner with the Hawthornes went better than expected. My mood was lifted after reading the letter from Prim. Everyone seemed to notice the change, but they didn't question it.

The trip home only takes 10 minutes by car, but the kids are exhausted and Will fell asleep the second he got in the car. When we get home, Peeta has to lift Will from his car seat and carry him upstairs to bed. While Peeta is upstairs with Will, I help Maysilee get ready for bed, too.

I help her onto the stool that helps her reach the sink better, and she brushes her teeth. When she's done, she turns around and says, "Mommy?"

"Hmm?"

"Who is Gale?" she asks.

I freeze in place, unsure how to answer. _Well, honey, Gale used to be my best friend but then he kissed me and I got confused about whether I loved your dad. But before I could figure it out, he blew out Aunt Prim to pieces. I haven't seen him in thirteen years._ There's no good way to answer that question.

Luckily for me, Peeta walks in the bathroom.

"Come on, Mays, time for bed," he says.

He holds his arm out for her and when she walks beside him, he puts that arm against her back and leads her upstairs. I sit down on the step stool and put my elbows on my knees, with my hands holding my head.

I can hear Peeta and Maysilee talking as they walk away.

"Daddy, who's Gale?" she asks.

He doesn't answer for a moment, probably thinking of how to answer. "Gale was your mom's best friend when she was a kid."

"When she was the age of me?"

"No," he answers, "a little older than you."

"Are they still best friends?" she asks.

"Um... They haven't seen each other in a long, long time."

"Why?"

I get up and shut the door before he has a chance to answer.

* * *

The next morning is cold and wet. The news station says that it's going to be like this for the next two weeks. I hate rain.

Peeta said he had to go in the bakery early this morning. He has to bake a wedding cake this afternoon, and wanted to get a head start on his work now so that he wouldn't be working late tonight. So that leaves me with the responsibility of taking the kids to school this morning and back home this afternoon.

When Maysilee comes downstairs for breakfast, I start to prepare her a plate of rabbit meat, scrambled eggs, and toast.

"Where's daddy?" she asks.

"He had to go to work early this morning," I reply.

I turn around and hand her the plate. She eagerly takes it and begins eating. She stuffs food in her mouth without taking a second to breathe.

"Slow down, Maysi," I try to say seriously, but I can't help but chuckle. "It's not going anywhere."

"Mmhmm!" she replies with her mouth full of food. Once she swallows, she continues. "I'm eating a rabbit and that means if I don't hurry eat him then he'll get away!"

She continues stuffing bites of food in her mouth and I barely manage to contain my laughter.

"Seriously, Maysi. Stop, alright? You're going to choke."

"Nuh-uh!" she protests.

"Maysilee, if you don't slow down, you won't be allowed to watch TV when you're done," I warn her.

She doesn't answer, but she does slow down.

"Keep that up," I say. "I'll be right back. I'm going to check on your brother."

I find Will in the den, sitting on the couch in front of the TV. An old cartoon show is on the TV and an empty cereal bowl sits in his lap.

"Will, how many times have I told you not to eat in here?"

He looks up at me, standing behind the couch. He must not have known I came in.

His blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight from the window. He replies innocently, "Daddy said I could if I was a good boy."

It's hard for me to be mad at him, but there has to be one strict parent in the house. "You know that I don't let you, though."

His lip pokes out a little. "I'm sorry mommy," he says.

"It's fine, baby. Go put your bowl by the sink."

"Okay!"

He hops off the couch and runs into the kitchen.

"No running!" I call after him.

I hear the bowl clank against the countertop. The next sound is his padded feet, wrapped in his blue footie pajamas, walking back to the den.

"Thank you, Will."

"You're welcome," he answers with an adorable smile. "Now I brush my teeth?"

"You got it," I say.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, the kids have been dropped off at school and I'm in the car on the way home. All of a sudden, I remember something that I read in Prim's letter last night.

"Forgive Gale," Prim had written.

The words came to me out of the blue, nearly making me drive off the road from the craziness of it. I shake my head and continue driving. How can I forgive someone who I haven't seen in so long? I don't know where he lives, I don't know a phone number, I don't know what his life is like. For all I know, he could be in District 12 right now.

I return my attention to the road and slam on my brakes. Bigger coincidences happen every day, but this couldn't possibly be one. This was something much bigger than chance. A coincidence, for example, might have been me seeing a primrose growing in the grass on the side of the road while I was thinking about her.

But me seeing Gale Hawthorne walking down the sidewalk going the opposite direction as me, bundled in that same coat and boots he wore so many years ago in the woods with me every day, his deep gray eyes burning a hole through my windshield... That isn't a coincidence. No way.

* * *

 **A/N: I know that this chapter is on the shorter side, but most of it was just a filler storyline to lead up to the ending you just read. I honestly was going to wait until later in the story to bring Gale back, but the situation set itself up and I decided that it was going to be great no matter when it happened. So Gale's back to 12! We'll see what happens with him and Katniss next chapter, but for now, let me know what you thought about this chapter. Also, tell me your predictions for what will happen in the next one! I love hearing your feedback!**

 **Thank you so much to all my readers and an even bigger than you to everyone who has reviewed!**

 **Oh, and a few of you have asked about Rory's nephew, Lane. That's Gale's son. You'll find out more about him very, very soon, I promise! In the meantime, I'll give you all a teeny spoiler. SPOILER ALERT! Rory is the only one who knows about Lane.**


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

Most people are either too shocked to speak or full-out panicking when they realize they were just in a car accident. I, however, wear a look of pure annoyance as people walking the streets stop at the scene of the accident to "help." If they want to help so bad, they should walk away. The last thing I need is publicity about this. As soon as just one person recognizes me, the whole district will be talking about how Katniss Everdeen got in a wreck. And before I can clap my hands, reporters will be swarming.

That's the last thing I want right now.

I feel someone lifting me out of the driver's side of the car. The person sets me down against a tree planted as a landscaping technique in the middle of the sidewalk. My head is pounding. I can't remember the last time I had a headache this bad.

Once my thoughts stop spinning, I notice the position of the car. I didn't exactly run it into the lamp post like I thought I had. It surprisingly wedged itself into a dumpster beside the bakery, but it still-

Wait. The bakery?

My heart begins to pound, shooting more blood to my head and thus creating a quicker throbbing. What if Peeta was hurt? I stood up, about to go in to check on him. Surely, someone would have called a doctor if someone was injured inside. But on second thought, wasn't it standard protocol to call a doctor when there's a car accident? If my doctor hasn't gotten here yet, then it's no wonder there isn't one for the bakery yet.

"Katniss!" someone calls out.

My head whips around to see my mother rushing toward me. There's my doctor.

"Mom," I say, hurrying towards her. She hugs me as soon as I reach her.

"Are you okay?" she asks when she pulls away.

"Yeah," I reply, "What about everyone else?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, a strange look on her face.

I look over my shoulder at the bakery, where the front of my car is smooshed into the pink brick wall. "I ran into the side of the bakery."

My mother gives a relieved laugh. "You didn't hurt a single brick. The entire district, or the downtown at least, was rebuilt with bomb-proof walls. You couldn't have hurt that building if you tried."

"Oh," I say. "I have to go check out the damage."

I begin walking back to the car when a question flashes through my head. What caused me to run off the road in the first place?

The answer comes on its own when a tall man, who was clearly a Seam kid at one time, approaches me.

"Hey, are you okay? I saw the accident, you looked pretty spun up," the man says.

I can't do anything but stare. So I didn't imagine that. He really is here.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asks again when I don't answer. But I can't say anything. There are a million things running through my mind and I don't think I can answer until I get things straightenes up.

I'm surprised to see Peeta running towards me through all the chaos.

"Katniss!" he shouts.

When Peeta finally reached me, his breaths are uneven and he looks tired. I briefly worry whether his prosthetic leg was giving him trouble again, but I didn't have time to question it much. Peeta reaches up and puts his hands on either side of my face. His eyes are nothing but seriousness and worry.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "I heard what happened, but they wouldn't let me outside to see you until they made sure there wasn't a gas leak."

"Yeah, I'm good." But my answer comes too quickly, and his eyebrows lower. He doesn't buy it. "No, really," I assure him.

I'm so glad," he says.

Then he kisses me. It takes everything in me, but I finally have to step away from him, despite how badly I wanted to stay in his arms.

It takes me a second to gather my composure again, as it normally does after we kiss. When I can think clearly again, I'm shocked to realize that he's been standing there, watching us this whole time. My cheeks flush bright red.

"I'm sorry, I just-" he trails off. "Katniss?"

Peeta takes a step back from me but stands close enough to keep his arm around me. He squints at the man, not because he can't see, but to try to figure out who it was. His eyes soften and his mouth forms an "O" shape.

 _That's it, Peeta_ , I think. _You have it figured out._

"Gale?" he says.

"Yeah, hey," Gale says. He sounds distracted, but he shakes Peeta's hand nonetheless.

When they step back from each other, Peeta reaches for my hand. Peeta and I don't normally go out together in public, but when we do, we don't show much affection. It bothers me that Peeta is holding my hand now for the sake of being territorial. Gale watches me carefully, as if I'm the deer and he's stalking me, waiting for the oppurtunity to shoot.

I look down at my shoes, my face still red. I want nothing more than for this to be over. But it can't be over until Gale stops staring, and I can still feel his eyes on me.

After what seems like an eternity, he finally looks at Peeta. "Okay, um, I'll see you around."

Peeta shakes his hand one more time. In the process, he lets go of my hand and wraps his arm around me.

Gale gives me one last, long look before walking away. I notice that he's headed in a completely different direction than he was when the accident happened, but I shrug it off. Why should I care?

Peeta looks to me. "What the heck, Katniss?"

I don't answer.

"So here we had a chance to make things better between you and Gale. It's the first time you've seen him in thirteen years and maybe the last time you'll see him again, and you don't say a single word to him? Katniss, I don't get-"

"Will you stop?" I cry out. It came out louder than I expected, and a few people's heads turned my way. We waited until they looked away before we spoke again. "I'm not ready to see him, okay? I thought I was, but I'm not."

Peeta strokes my cheek with his thumb. I look in his eyes and hold back a chuckle. Peeta can never stay angry for long. He tilts my chin upwards and kisses me, then lets go of my chin a few seconds later.

"Take your time," he says. "I'm here for support."

* * *

Two days later, I'm woken in the middle of the night by loud coughing. Peeta shifts next to me, and I know it woke him up, too.

I turn on the lamp on the side table and listen for more coughing. Peeta rubs his eyes and looks at me, then sits up quickly when he sees me sitting.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

The coughing starts again. It sounds thick and wheezy.

"Who is that?

"I think it's Will," I reply. "I'll go."

"Come get me if you need me," he says.

I creep silently down the hallway. All my years of hunting and being hunted have come in handy for moving across our creaky wood floors. I finally reach Will's room, where I walk over to his crib. When I get there, I see that he's already awake.

"Hey, baby," I say. "What are you doing awake?"

"I can't sleep and I have coughs," he answers, but he can barely say two words at a time without coughing.

"Do you feel sick?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "It's cold."

I reach down to feel his forehead for a fever, but instead find my hand dripping in his sweat.

"Honey, you're sweating," I say.

Will looks confused, and I realize he's way too young to know if he's sick.

"Peeta!" I call.

I take Will from his crib and carry him downstairs, then into the kitchen. I hear Peeta's footsteps running to catch up behind me. Once we're in the kitchen, I shift Will to my left hip, grab the phone from the wall hook, and dial my mother's number.

"Katniss, what's going on?" he asks.

"He says he's cold but he's dripping sweat, and he can't stop coughing."

Peeta's eyes flood with worry. "Who are you-"

I hold up a finger when I hear my mother's voice answer the phone.

"Katniss?" she says.

"Can you come over?" I ask.

"What's wrong?" my mother asks.

"I think Will's sick and I don't know what to do."

There's a pause on the other end. "I'll be over in a few minutes."

* * *

My mother arrives ten minutes later, armed with a bag of different kinds of medicine and another bag that holds her thermometer and other tools.

"Thanks for coming, Mrs. Everdeen," Peeta says when he answers the door.

She doesn't say anything, just nods. She's already in her zone.

"Do what grandmom tells you," I say to Will.

He nods, his small legs swaying off the edge of the kitchen table, where my mother has asked him to sit.

"I'm putting this under your tongue," my mother tells him before she puts her thermometer in his mouth. She keeps it in for a couple of minutes, then pulls it out.

"He had a 102 degree temperature," she says.

"What does that mean?" Peeta asks.

"He has a fever," she replies. She feels different places on his face, then looks at me. "You said he was cold."

"I am!" Will says. With perfect timing, he shivers. A few seconds later, his coughing begins again.

My mother focuses intently on his coughing. After several minutes of listening, she begins packing up her bags.

"Mom," I say, "what are you doing?"

She stops packing and looks at me. "He has a bad case of pneumonia."

"What's that?" Peeta asks.

My mother sighs. "It's a bacterial infection in the lungs. You can get it from being in the cold, catching a virus, lots of things. But with this weather, I'd bet he got it from being outside for too long."

"So what do we do?" I ask.

"Well," she frowns. "I can't help you at this point. If you had brought him to me when he first displayed symptoms, then maybe I could've helped. But this is beyond anything my medicines can fix. You'll have to take him to a real hospital."

"It won't get better on its own?" Peeta asks.

"It could, but the illness itself can last for weeks and the recovery is lengthy. Babies and toddlers as bad off as he is don't usually live past the first week."

I pick up Will and start walking toward the door. "Go wake up Maysi, I'll start the car."

Peeta looks at me, startled, but he doesn't question me.

"Where are we going?" Will asks.

"We're taking you to the hospital, baby," I tell him. "We're going to make you feel all better."

He smiles weakly at me. "Okay."

* * *

We reach the district hospital by 3:30 in the morning. We decided to leave Maysilee with my mother. She said it would be safer for her to keep her away from Will. Will's coughing has progressively gotten worse. When we walk through the doors of the emergency room, they recognize us immediately. Perks of being a victor, perks of being the Mockingjay.

"He has a dangerous case of pneumonia," the doctor says after half an hour of examining him.

I groan in frustration. "I could've told you that when we walked in!"

Peeta pats my shoulder. "Don't get stressed out."

"How can I not be stressed out?" I shout at him.

"Katniss, calm down. Let's go in the hall."

I let him lead me into the hallway, where he grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eyes.

"We're going to make this work," he says. "The doctor said he'll have to stay here for the next few days, so you and I can take turns staying overnight with him. One of us can check up on the house, talk to Maysi, and work, while the other stays here. I know you're scared, but we're going to push through it. Willy's a fighter, and he has doctors and medicine on his side."

Peeta hugs me, but I can't find it in me to hug back. He lets me go, then says, "Maybe you should call Hazelle. Let her know what's happening."

"Why?" I ask.

"Because she's a friend of our family. Maybe she'll be able to help us out."

Then, he walks back in Will's room, leaving me in the hall alone.

* * *

DAY THREE AT HOSPITAL

Will hasn't gotten much better. If anything, he's gotten worse. His coughing has become a dry hacking that occasionally ends in vomiting. The doctor says that throwing up is a good sign, that it means he's getting rid of the fluids in his lungs.

Yet they continue to increase his dosage of medicine. They said they're scared to increase it much more than they have now due to his age.

* * *

DAY FIVE AT HOSPITAL

They've increased his medicine as much as they can, but it still isn't enough. I was told when I came here that they would help my son to get better, not drug him up until he can't stay awake. I asked if there were any other options for treating the sickness. Apparently there's some surgery that's usually used on lung cancer patients. They drain the fluids from your lungs and hope for the best. The doctor said that the surgery has only been tried on a pneumonia case twice in history, and that there's no guarantee that the mucus will be able to drain out as easily as normal fluids.

I called Peeta to tell him. He said that we can both stay here tomorrow for the procedure.

I've formed a habit of calling him twice a day while he's back home and I'm with Will. I call once at lunchtime, and again before I go to bed. That's why it surprised me at seven o'clock that night, an hour after dinner, when he called me instead.

"Hello?" I say into the phone, but I'm greeted by someone else's voice.

"Hi, is this Katniss Mellark?"

"Yeah, who is this?" I ask.

"This is Doctor Grunley from thr District 12 hospital. I was called to your husband's bakery tonight. I'm the one who-"

"Wait, why were you called to the bakery?" I ask.

"You see, Mrs. Mellark, there was a bad fire..."

He continues talking, but I can't hear what he's saying. The doctor's voice is just a low hum in my ear. A fire at the bakery... and they're calling me from Peeta's phone. The realization of what's happening hits me. Peeta's dying.

I scream for help repeatedly until a group of hospital security guards rush towards me. At first they ask me what's wrong and if I'm okay. But I don't answer them, I just keep screaming. They resort to restraining me, and I thrash against their grasp on my arms and legs. One guard rushes off to get the manager of the ER. The manager emerges from an office door in seconds and they lead me into an empty hospital room. My voice has started to break by now, but I won't stop screaming until I see Peeta.

I keep hoping that they'll just kill me right here and now, to bring me out of the confusion and horror I feel right now. But I know they won't kill me. They have no reason to. Instead, they pin me down on a cot and shove a long needle into my arm. I'm out before the needle leaves my arm.

* * *

 **A/N: There's a cliffhanger! What do you guys think? Did Katniss misunderstand the doctor? Will Peeta be okay? Or is really going to die? And do you think poor Will is going to get any better? And don't forget about Gale! Even I thought that I was going to write this chapter with Katniss being okay to talk to Gale, but it just happened that my fingers didn't want her to be, because this is what I ended up typing.**

 **Please leave a review, I value your feedback more than you can believe. I want to say thank you to all of my reviewers and an even bigger thank you to all of my reviewers! You guys make my day :)**

 **It might take me another couple of days to post again, just because I haven't finished the next chapter yet. I usually like to write a chapter in advance of my post schedule, but I haven't had time. I'll be right on it though!**


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

I wake up in the same hospital room I blacked out in, except now there's a heart monitor next to me, beeping at a steady rate. I chuckle to myself. Did they really think my health was at risk?

"What's so funny?" someone asks.

I sit straight up on the cot, looking for the voice's owner. I find the answer standing just inside the doorway. Rory.

"Hi, Katniss," he says. He sits at the end of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. A little crazed, but fine."

He laughs. "I can tell."

We sit in silence. I stare down at my hands in my lap while Rory examines me. He's probably wondering if he should bring up Peeta. Maybe I should drop a hint. Or I could be blunt.

I decide on the latter.

"What's wrong with Peeta?" I ask.

Rory looks surprised by my question but he doesn't try to hold anything back. "There was a fire at the bakery around six o'clock last night."

"How did it start?" I ask.

"I don't know. I guess the oven overheated or something. Everyone got out okay except . . ."

"Except Peeta?" I finish for him.

Rory sighs. "Yeah."

I look back down at my hands and fidget some more. Maybe it'll take my mind off of things.

"He's in the hospital right now," Rory says.

My head snaps back up. "This hospital?"

Rory nods.

"Where?" I demand. I need to see him. I jump off the cot and stand in front of Rory.

"Katniss, you don't want to-"

"I'm going to find him whether you tell me or not, so you may as well do this the easy way," I warn him.

Rory grabs my arm and holds me in place. "Katniss . . . Peeta isn't doing too well. You need to know that before you see him."

I break free of his grasp and let him lead me to Peeta's room. I'm not worried when I see we're headed to the Burn Victims Unit. I've seen burns before. I've had some myself, too. Peeta probably got out of the bakery before he was burned too badly, if the flames even touched him at all.

When we reach the outside of Peeta's door, Rory stops with his hand on the knob. "Are you sure you're ready to see him?"

Responding "yes" would be a lie. But I need to see him, ready or not. So I nod.

Years later, I still am sure that nothing could have prepared me for what I saw when Rory opened that door.

Peeta lays unconscious on a cot. A million different monitors and machines are hooked up beside him. His skin is one big burn; it's nearly impossible to differentiate one burn from the next. In a few areas, the skin is burned so deeply that the bone is visible. His face is dirty with smoke and I wonder why they haven't washed his face yet. But the most disturbing part of it all - the thing that almost makes my heart stop beating - is the sight of the life support machine in the corner of the room.

Rory must've seen where I was looking, because he comes over to me and hugs me from behind. His arms feel stronger than before and he seems taller now. Nevertheless, I lean back into him and enjoy this comfort from a boy who may as well be my brother.

A single tear rolls down my cheek as the realization hits that everyone I love is being taken away from me. And speaking of people I love, these arms feel strangely familiar.

I suck in a sharp breath and freeze. This man isn't Rory. The man behind me freezes, as well. I slowly turn around with my heart pounding dangerously in my chest. I knew who it was the second he opened his mouth. Only one person calls me by that name. But I still have to look. It isn't real until I see him.

And there he is, just like I guessed. Standing with his arms around me like nothing ever happened. Like he hasn't been gone for thirteen years.

A soft, involuntary whisper escapes my lips. "Gale."

"Hey, Catnip." He gives me a small smile. It's one I can't stand.

I run out into the hall, down four flights of stairs, and out the door. Once I'm outside, I crawl up a hill behind the parking lot and hug my knees to my chest. I rock back and forth, trying to soothe the unhealed wounds that have reopened upon seeing him.

"Katniss!" I hear from the other side of the parking lot.

My brain runs in circles thinking of a place to hide, or even just somewhere to run, but there is nothing. These are not my woods. I can't hide here. So I stay where I am and squeeze my eyes shut, hoping I'll sprout some kind of invisibility power like the superheroes in the cartoons my kids watch.

"Katniss," he says. He's standing over me now.

I don't say anything. I guess he takes my silence as an invitation to sit on the grass beside me. It wasn't, but I've decided to pick my battles wisely today.

"You want to hear something funny?" he asks.

I don't answer, I just continue staring straight ahead.

Gale takes a deep breath before beginning his story. "When Peeta called me and told me that you were ready to talk, I almost didn't believe him. Nothing about being back here seemed real until I got to Twelve and found my old hunting jacket and boots in the back of a closet."

I close my eyes and inhale slowly at the thought of Gale's old hunting jacket. The smell of pine needles and blackberries is so real that I can almost reach into the air and pluck one of the sweet berries for myself.

"When I saw your wreck, I didn't know it was you at first. But then I saw Peeta and I knew it had to be you. I went over and talked to him, but he acted like our call had never happened. So I stopped by the bakery on Tuesday and asked if he had a few minutes to talk. He told me that you're going through some things that he can't help you with and that you need me."

I look up at him - the first eye contact we've shared since the day of my car accident. "Peeta asked you to come back?" I ask.

"Yeah," he says. "I was surprised, too."

I let my head rest on top of my knees again. "Where did Rory go?"

"I let him go back home. Thought I should take care of some things with you."

I shake my head. "I don't want to talk to you."

From the corner of my eye, I see Gale look at me with a pained expression. He waits a moment before trying again.

"I know I kind of came up on you out of nowhere," he starts, "but maybe that's how things were supposed to be."

"Since when do you believe in fate?" I scoff.

He hesitates. "I'm not sure I can answer that."

"Whatever. So you believe in fate and destiny and fairytales now. Anything else that's changed?"

"Not really," he says. "And I thought you weren't talking to me."

"Just because I'm trying to be congenial doesn't mean I don't still hate you."

I can almost feel him cringe. It takes him a moment to recover. When he speaks again, his question takes me by surprise. "So how's living in Twelve again?"

His attempt small talk leaves me unprepared, but my answer comes easily.

"It'd be a whole lot better if I didn't see constant reminders of my little sister, who you killed," I say icily.

"Here we go," he says under his breath.

I stand and brush the grass off my pants. "You know what? I'm done talking to you."

He reaches up and grabs my hand. I pull away from him almost as quickly as he can reach me. There's a fleeting bit of pain across his face.

"Katniss." His voice is pleading and his eyes are yearning for something, though I'm not sure what. "You can't just leave."

I survey his face for a moment. I can see his pain. I can see how much he wants to make things better between us. But it's not enough to cover our past.

"I don't have any reason to stay," I reply. And then I head back in the direction of the hospital. When I am out of his earshot but still close enough to see him, I gather the courage to look back at him. Maybe I have faulty vision, but I could've sworn I saw him crying.

* * *

When I return to the hospital, I consider the things I had said to Gale. Did I really not want to talk to him? There's a part of me that did. It's a small part, but still significant. I want to know how his life has been, what he's been doing, and who he's met in District 2. Does he have his own house, or is he living in an apartment? Who does he wake up next to every morning? Or does he wake up alone? That isn't a question, of course he has a girlfriend. Maybe he's even married.

As I approach the Burn Victim Unit, I'm nearly trampled by four doctors rushing past me down the hallway. I'm about to shout some kind of snarky comment at them until I see where they're headed.

I break into a sprint. When I round the corner into the room, I almost run into the back of one of the doctors. There are two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, making it so that I can't see a single thing past them. I try to push past, but they don't budge.

"Let me through," I say, shoving their shoulders. They don't respond. "Let me through, I'm his wife."

Something inside the room begins beeping at quick, split second intervals and I panic.

"Let me in! I'm his wife!"

No one hears me.

This is like a scene from my worst nightmare. Everything around me is going wrong. No one acknowledges that I'm here, and there's no way for me to know what's happening.

Suddenly, a pair of hands grab me from behind and pull me out of the room. Confused and angry, I thrash and struggle against the person. "Let go!" I yell. But no amount of squirming is going to loosen this person's grip on me. So I resort to the one thing I could always count on to save me before. I scream the name of the one person I have ever been able to completely rely on. I scream for Peeta.

As I scream his name relentlessly, the two doctors who were blocking my view turn their heads to look at me. They do nothing about my predicament; they look away and revert their attention to whatever's going on in Peeta's room.

Some minutes later, I'm finally released from the mystery person's hold. I'm only fifteen to twenty yards down the hall from Peeta's room. I probably could make it back if I ran right now, but I also want to know who my assailant is. So I turn to find myself face to face with someone I haven't seen in several years.

Johanna Mason.

"Johanna," I say. "What are you doing here?"

She rolls her eyes like the answer is obvious. "I'm here for the same reason you are, sweetie," she says with a note of sarcasm that brings a negative connotation to her term of endearment.

I raise one eyebrow, to which she rolls her eyes again. "I'm here for Lover Boy. And because your mentor called."

"Haymitch called you?" I repeat, surprised.

"Yeah, he told me about Peeta. He told me about your son too, though." She pauses. It's almost laughable to see how much it torments her to sympathize with me. "I'm really sorry about . . . all this. It must suck."

I nod. She doesn't have an inkling of an idea.

"Anyway, Haymitch asked me to come down and help you out. He says you already have a babysitter."

"Peeta and I were switching out between staying home with Maysilee and being here with Willard," I say.

No sooner are the words off my tongue than I am gasping at the sudden realization that with myself and Peeta here at the hospital, no one is at home caring for our daughter.

Johanna predicts my reaction and sighs. "Calm down, Everdeen."

I'm tempted to correct her but let her continue. If I interrupt her now, her temper may lead her out the door and I may never find out what happened to Peeta.

"Haymitch called that friend of yours, the hot one. He has it handled," Johanna says.

"But Gale was just here," I argue.

"Yeah, I know. He left her with his mother and brother while he came to see you." She must see my confusion because she adds, "You act like this is the first you've heard of any of this."

"It is," I admit.

"Well, I'm supposed to be here to answer questions. From the look you're giving me, I'm assuming you have a lot."

Over the next hour, I ask questions and Johanna gives me answers.

To start off with, Peeta was severely burned in the bakery fire. The machine I saw wasn't a life support machine, it was a brain monitor. It's some new Capitol invention that tracks brain waves and thoughts while someone is unconscious. I comment on how strange it must be to have your thoughts read by a roomful of doctors, but Johanna assures me that they can't actually read his thoughts. The point of the machine is to track how hard his brain is working and how close to consciousness he is.

Peeta would've gotten out of the fire quicker if he hadn't stopped to save some of the customers who were trapped in the corner behind a fallen bookshelf. Peeta was the only one still behind the bookshelf when it caught on fire. The fire caught onto him and he began losing consciousness from the smoke. He would've been conscious now if he hadn't fallen backwards and hit his head against a brick wall behind him.

Currently, Peeta is in a coma. I've heard the term a few times before but I don't know what it means, so I ask Johanna to explain. She says that in layman's terms, a coma is like being unconscious for a long period of time. Someone can die while in a coma or wake up, depending on the severity of the condition. In Peeta's situation, it's unlikely he'll wake up anytime soon. Although she doesn't say the words, my brain finishes the statement. If ever. But Johanna says that doctors can often be bribed with money. As former victors, Peeta and I have quite a bit of money, plus the money he's made on his own from running the bakery. All I can do is hope that that will be enough to keep Peeta alive.

For the first time today, I decide to check on Willard. I look through the small window in the door before I go in to make sure that he's awake. And he is - he's looking at a picture book that looks huge in his tiny lap. He must sense me watching him because he looks up and immediately notices me watching him through the window. He breaks into a smile. I turn the knob and go to his bedside.

Will wraps his arms around my neck. "Miss you, Mommy," he says, and I hold him tightly.

"I missed you too, Willy," I say and plant a kiss on top of his hair before I let him go.

Will sits back on the bed and remembers his book. He points at it excitedly. "Look. Daddy got me."

"That was nice of him. What's it about?"

"Yummy stuff!"

"Ooh, let me see," I say.

I pick up the book and look at it. It's a book about desserts. I roll my eyes and giggle a little. This is a typical Peeta gift.

"Do you like it?" I ask Willard.

He nods his head in answer. He's still wearing that big smile.

I watch him continue to flip through the pages of his book. He points at some of the pictures and shows them to me. He's going to follow in his father's footsteps as a baker, it's already obvious. But the idea of my baby one day working as a baker and possibly holding the same tragic fate as his father sickens me. Is anyone safe?

* * *

 **A/N: In the reviews, I've noticed that a lot of you seem worried that this story is going to be your typical Peeta dies and Katniss and Gale fall in love fanfic. That's not true by a long shot. I have a much better plot planned! If I'm being completely honest, I haven't decided whether Peeta will die yet or not. I've planned out two different directions that this story can go in: one being in case Peeta dies and the other in case he doesn't. So don't get your hopes up or down yet! But I hope you'll stick around for the entire story either way, because I promise it'll be good :)  
**

 **Please review and tell me your thoughts. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers!**


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

"Katniss."

I squeeze my eyes together tightly. Maybe if I pretend I'm still asleep, she'll go away. But my wish doesn't come true, because she begins shaking my shoulders.

"Katniss, get up," she says. "Katniss!"

I open my eyes and glare at her. "Johanna, do you know how much sleep I've gotten? And you're waking me up."

Johanna pinches my arm.

"Ow!" I cry, scooting back away from her and rubbing the place she pinched. "What was that for?"

"That was for not shutting up," she replies. "Listen. I have news, and I'm pretty sure you'll be happy I woke you up."

"What is it?" I groan.

"Peeta's awake."

My eyes widen and I gasp. I jump out of the hard chair I spent the night in and sprint to Peeta's hospital room.

"Ma'am, please don't run in the hospital!" a nurse from down the hall calls after me, but I pretend not to hear her.

When I reach Peeta's room, the first thing I see is the doctor next to his bed. Peeta is nodding with a weak smile on his face while the doctor hands him several pills and tells him when to take them. Peeta takes the pills and swallows them one at a time. Then he notices me.

"Peeta," I exhale, running over to him.

He holds his arms out to me, and I wrap mine around him. If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have touched them simply because of the burns. I've always hated burns; it's the worst kind of pain. But because it's Peeta, I put my avertion aside.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, stroking my hair gently.

I pull back from him. I am unable to help laughing at his selflessness. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? How long have you been back?"

"You act like I flew to the moon or something. I've been here the whole time, Katniss. But I woke up about half an hour ago. Johanna was sleeping but the doctor woke her up after he got me settled and told her to find you."

"I'm glad he did," I say. "I was so worried about you."

He smiles a little, then seems to remember something. "How's Will?" he asks.

My own smile drops from my face at the mention of our son. But I know better than to worry Peeta. "Um, he's a little better," I lie.

"Katniss, he's my son too, you know," he says. "I need to know the truth."

I sigh. "He's doing okay, but the medicine isn't working as well as it should be. They think the low effect of the medicine has to do with how young he is."

"He'll get better, Katniss. I know it."

"Isn't it funny that you're the one giving me encouragement?" I ask. "Even though you're the one who just came back from the almost-dead."

We both laugh.

"Kind of," he admits. "But I have to be here for you. I haven't been for a few days."

"Making up for lost time," I comment, and he laughs.

Peeta may not be completely healed, but he's alive. And right now, that's all I need to know.

* * *

Four days later, Peeta is cleared to come home from the hospital. Will, although still sick, is allowed to come home with us, under the condition that his doctor comes to check on him once a day until all traces of pneumonia are gone. We said our goodbyes to Johanna and I thanked her for all her help. I asked her if she wanted to come back with us, but she declined, and I decided not to fight her on it.

When we arrive home, I first go in the office to check for the mail, which my mother told me would be in a pile on my desk. And it's a pile if I've ever seen one. I can't even count how many letters and bills were stacked on the desk.

"Katniss!" Peeta calls from the other room.

"Yeah?"

"Your mom left a message. We pick up Maysi at seven tonight."

"Where?" I ask.

"What?" he calls back.

"I said, where are we picking her up?"

There's a pause. "I can't hear you!"

I give up on shouting and walk to the kitchen, where he's holding Will and listening to the answering machine.

"I was asking where we're going to pick her up," I say.

"Hold on." He holds up a finger to finish listening to the voice message, then hangs up the phone. "Hazelle's house."

"I hope she's doing okay," I say. "I feel terrible for leaving her here."

"She needed to be here for school. It wouldn't have been good for her to come with us."

I nod, but I don't get a chance to say anything back because the doorbell rings suddenly.

"Who could that be?" I ask. We weren't expecting anyone.

Peeta puts Will on the ground, raises an eyebrow at me, and shrugs as he goes to answer the door. From the kitchen, I can hear muffled greetings and what appears to be excitement.

"Yeah, she's in here," I hear Peeta say as his footsteps come toward the kitchen.

Walking in right behind Peeta is Haymitch.

"Haymitch," I smile, going in for a hug. He hugs back and smiles, and I'm glad that he has stopped reeking of alcohol.

"How you doing, sweetheart?" he asks.

"I'm okay," I answer.

Haymitch catches sight of Will standing beside me and crouches in front of him.

"Hi there," he says.

"Hi!" Will says back.

Haymitch leans forward and messes up Will's hair, making the toddler laugh. "You got taller," he tells him.

"Daddy says I'm gonna be tall like him," Will says proudly.

Haymitch looks at Peeta. "Well, you don't have much taller to grow, then."

Peeta frowns playfully. "I'm not _that_ short."

I'm messing with you," Haymitch laughs. "Where's the girl?"

"She's at Hazelle's," I respond. "We're going to get her later."

"Then tell her Uncle Haymitch says hi," he says with a wink.

"I will," I promise.

Over the past few years, Haymitch has grown close with our family again. In the years after the war, I didn't want to see hm or anyone else you held a reminder of what had happened. But when Maysilee was born, Haymitch was one of the first ones to visit me, even though we hadn't seen each other in close to seven years. As a result, Haymitch has become one of Maysi's favorite people. He's close with Will as well, but him and Maysi have a special bond.

Haymitch stopped drinking around the time Maysi was born. Peeta and I try not to bring up his alcoholic past in front of him. We know it's hard on him, even now after years of being sober. But he does have a thing for caffeine now.

"Why don't you come in the den and we'll catch up?" Peeta suggests, and we all follow him into the den.

I sit on the couch with Will on my lap and Peeta next to me. Haymitch sits in a white armchair across from us, a glass of coffee in hand. He begins to stir sugar in his mug.

"So," he begins. "Word on the street is there's been some hospitalization in the family."

I don't know how to respond, and thankfully I don't have to.

Peeta replies, "Yeah, a little bit."

Haymitch stops stirring and waits for him to finish.

"Well, Will has pneumonia and was being treated. He's gotten a little bit better, but his immune system isn't as strong as it should be. The doctor suggested we pull him out of preschool until he can get better, but we haven't really talked about it yet."

Haymitch nods. "And you weren't doing so good yourself?"

I'm surprised at Peeta's calmness when he answers. "You know about the fire. I'm sure you heard I was in a coma."

Haymitch pauses his stirring to raise one eyebrow at Peeta. Then he looks back down and continues his stirring. "That's news to me," he says.

"Oh," Peeta says.

"But you're okay?"

"As far as I can tell."

"No damage to the brain?"

"Nope."

"The lungs?"

Peeta noticeably stiffens next to me. Nonetheless, his answer is, "No."

I see Haymitch give him a look of disbelief that lasts for all of one second, and Peeta shakes his head ever so slightly.

"Well,' Haymitch says. "I guess I ought to be heading back."

He begins walking to the foyer. Peeta gets up to follow him, and I come close behind, holding Will.

"You just got here," Peeta complains. "You should come by for dinner soon."

"I'll take you up on that offer," Haymitch says. He grabs his coat and puts it on. "Winter's coming. You can feel it in the air. You take care of these kids."

He pats Will on the head and gives me and Peeta hugs.

"I'll be back for that dinner," he promises. Then he walks out and shuts the door behind him.

* * *

Several hours later, after we have showered, changed clothes, and unpacked our hospital bags, it is time to pick up Maysi. Peeta calls Hazelle before we leave the house to let her know we're coming, and she surprises him by extending an invitation to stay for dinner. I'm not at all surprised, though; she always invites her guests to stay for the next meal. She's simply a hospitable person.

Peeta accepts her invitation and before long, we're in the car. The car ride consists of light conversation. We don't discuss the events of the past two weeks, only our plans for the next few.

I have almost forgotten that Gale is the one caring for Maysilee until we knock on their back door and he is the one to answer, holding Maysi's hand.

"Mommy!" she says when she sees me. I bend over to hug her.

Then, she hugs Peeta. Will demands to be put down, so Peeta lets him down. He hugs his older sister, which melts my heart. Then, Maysi begins tickling him playfully.

"Stop!" he squeals between fits of laughter. "Stop, Maysi!"

Although we're all laughing, I have to tell Maysi to stop. Once our greetings are exchanged, Gale invites us inside.

As we walk through the front hall, Gale says, "I bet it's been a while since you were here last."

"We were just here the other day," I respond.

Gale seems surprised that we were here, but he doesn't say anything else.

When we get to the kitchen, Hazelle greets us with hugs and kisses.

"It feels like forever since you were here!" she says. "Are you all okay?"

Peeta answers for me. "Will is well enough to stay at home. His doctor will come by every day to check on how he's doing, but he says he'll be okay."

"That's good," Hazelle nods. "And how about you?"

"I'm fine," he replies. But based on his exchange with Haymitch earlier, something tells me he knows something that I don't.

"Well, why don't the four of you sit down in the den? The others are in there, and I'm sure Gale would be happy to catch up with you."

Gale gave her a hard stare, which she returned with a stern one. He turned without a word and we followed him to their small living area.

Moments later, we're seated, with Peeta and I on the couch and Gale on another couch parallel to us. Maysi and Will have wandered off to play with Posy in her bedroom.

Rory and Vick enter the room before an awkward silence can form, and Rory sits in one of the two old, beaten up recliners across from us.

"Hey, guys," Vick says with his signature goofy smile. He comes over to us and gives Peeta a friendly slap on the back, then hugs me.

"Hey, Vick," I say with a smile.

He sits in the empty chair next to Rory. I had hoped that the two younger Hawthorne brothers would ease the awkwardness of the situation, but I was proved wrong. We sit in silence for what feels like hours.

"I'm real sorry about the fire," Rory says to Peeta. "I went past the bakery yesterday. There was a lot of damage. It must be hard."

Peeta nods. "Thank you. I haven't thought about it much."

"Do you know what caused the fire?" he asks.

Peeta opens his mouth to answer, but Gale interrupts him. "Shut up, Rory. You know what started that fire."

Peeta looks between the two brothers, looking as confused as I felt. What does Gale mean? How does Rory know what happened?

"What are you talking about?" Peeta asks.

Gale seems to have forgotten that Peeta was in the room. He looks at him in temporary shock, but he composes himself quickly.

"Gas leak from the car accident, right?" He laughs, and I can see the well-concealed nervousness in his voice. "Rory and I were at the press conference."

I narrow my eyes at Gale. He pretends not to see, but I know from years of being his closest friend that he did.

Thankfully, Hazelle saves us from any further tension by calling from the kitchen, "Dinner's ready!"

The five of us stand and make our way to the kitchen. Hazelle has added extra chairs and a table attachment to make room for all of us. She puts a plate at the head of the table, where she sits. Then, she continues setting plates down at each place. I sit in the first chair to her right, and Peeta sits beside me. Rory sits directly across from me and to Hazelle's left. Gale sits beside him, and Vick beside him. We're all ready to eat, but the kids haven't come to the table yet.

"Kids!" Hazelle yells, her voice projecting to the back of the house. "Come eat!"

"Did someone say dinner?" I hear Will's excited voice shouts down the hall.

All the adults laugh.

"He's a real hoot and a half," Vick comments.

We hear the running footsteps of Maysi and Will. Posy is walking behind them to make sure they don't fall.

"Alright, find a place to sit," Hazelle says. "I'll be right back."

While Hazelle is gone, Peeta picks up Will and puts him in the high chair Hazelle has set up beside his chair. Posy sits next to Vick, and Maysi sits beside her.

"Where did Hazelle go?" Peeta asks.

She returns before his question gets answered. Walking behind her is a young boy who doesn't look much older than Maysi. He walks between Gale and Vick and says something quietly.

"You can pull up a chair beside me," Vick tells the boy.

The boy goes over to the end of the table opposite Hazelle and tries to pick up the one empty chair, but it's too big for him to carry.

"Here, do you need some help?" Posy asks him.

He nods, and she carries the chair where he tells her to and sets it down between Gale and Vick.

"Is that good?" she asks.

The boy nods and sits down.

By this time, Hazelle has found her seat and everyone is settled in. Hazelle holds out her hands to Rory and I, and everyone else follows suit. We say a prayer over the food - something I haven't done since before my father died - and then begin eating.

Hazelle takes a bite of her meat, nods in appreciation of her own cooking, and swallows. "We're so glad you were able to join us for dinner," she says to Peeta and I.

"Thank you for inviting us," Peeta answers. "This is amazing. What is it?"

Hazelle beams from his compliment. "It's rice with beaver meat. The potatoes came from my garden."

Peeta takes another bite of the beaver and rice. "Mmm," he says, enjoying the bite. "Where do you find meat this juicy?"

Hazelle smiles. "Gale shot it last night. He has an eye for finding just the right kind of meat."

I can't help but ask. "You don't hunt in the mornings anymore?"

He looks surprised that I spoke to him. He looks down at his plate and his reply is almost inaudible. "You hunt in the mornings."

"So?" I say. Why does he care when I hunt?

"I don't want to bother you," he answers shortly, and I know better than to push the subject. So I say, "Oh," and move on.

I realize that the table had become completely silent during our exchange. All of them watching, all of them waiting. Watching for signs of forgiveness, waiting for one of us to explode. But it doesn't happen, so they revert their eyes back to their plates and continue eating.

"Grandma," an unfamiliar voice says, and I look up to discover that it belongs to the little boy. "Who's that?"

He points to Peeta.

Hazelle replies, "That's Peeta Mellark, Miss Katniss' husband."

"Oh," he says.

Peeta looks up around this time and notices the boy watching him. He wipes his mouth with his napkin, then smiles at him. "Hi," he says, "what's your name?"

The little boy says, "Lane."

The name sounds familiar. It takes me a moment to remember that this is Vick's son, the one Rory was talking about.

I look at Vick and smile. "I was wondering when I was going to get to meet your son. He's cute."

Vick looks confused. "My son?"

I look between Vick and Rory, trying to figure out why Vick was so confused. Lane is his son, right? If not, who else could it be?

Rory shakes his head at me and his eyes are trying to tell me something, but I'm not sure what.

"Rory, you said Lane is your nephew..." I say.

Rory sighs and puts his head in his hand. "Way to go, Katniss," he mutters.

Right then, everything began happening at once.

Hazelle answers, "Lane is his nephew." She looks as lost as I am.

Vick looks to Rory and asks, "How does Katniss know about Lane?"

Meanwhile, Gale is glaring dangerously at Rory, looking ready to kill him.

My eyes flash between all three brothers, not knowing what to think of the situation.

It's Peeta who speaks up in the chaos. "Will someone please explain to me what's going on?"

Everyone stops talking to stare at Peeta, but no one answers.

"Well?" he demands.

Gale is the only one not paying attention to Peeta. He's still glaring at Rory.

"You told her about Lane?" he asks. The anger in his voice makes me shiver. I've never been this scared of him before.

"I didn't mean to, it just slipped out. I'm sorry," he pleads.

"Who else did it just 'slip out' to?"

"No one, I swear. I didn't tell anyone else!" Rory says.

With a shaking voice, Hazelle asks, "Rory... did Gale contact you?"

* * *

 **A/N: Well, this was the longest chapter I've written yet! It was really fun to write and I'm so excited to introduce Lane! Next chapter, you'll find out answers to a few of the questions you've been asking. Also, some Galeniss coming in the next chapter. Will they get along or will they fight? Will the tension at the dinner table continue? I guess you'll have to find out!**

 **Thanks so much for reading, and don't forget to review and let me know what you think! Your input keeps me going and I'm so grateful for each one of you that take the time to review :) If you have time, maybe you write an extra long review for this extra long chapter?**


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

There is complete silence at the table as everyone waits for Rory's answer. I suddenly realize the truth as everyone else does.

"Well?" Hazelle demands.

Rory looks down in shame, and everyone knew the answer without hearing it. Rory had been conmmunicating with Gale all these years, knowing good and well that the rest of his family needed to hear from him too, but being too selfish to care.

Hazelle looks as if someone has slapped her across the face. She looks at Gale with a thousand questions across her face. I wonder if he realizes what he did to his family when he left District 12. When he left them in 13 and never came back for them. Does he know the damage he's done?

"I'm so sorry, mom," Rory apologizes, but she isn't paying attenion. Her focus is on her eldest son.

"Why didn't you reach out to the rest of us, Gale?" she asks. He tries to answer, but she cuts him off. "Do you understand how much you've put this family through? Posy had to grow up without one of her brothers. Vick and Rory had to learn life lessons from me, when they should've been learning them from you."

Gale doesn't answer. He looks at me suddenly, as if remembering I'm here.

Posy speaks up for the first time throughout the argument. "They're still wondering who Lane belongs to, and I suggest one of you tell them before I do."

Hazelle gives Posy the most disciplinary look she can manage. "Let him tell her, Posy," she scolds. "There's no reason for you to get involved."

Then, Hazelle looks at me. I must have struck her as innocent, because she calms her voice and says, "Katniss, go out back with Gale. Maybe he'll be able to explain what's going on."

I try to object but she shakes her head. "Go," she says.

So Gale and I reluctantly stand from the table. I follow him out the back door and find myself sitting on the same concrete slab that I sat on with Hazelle, while he leans his back against a tree about two feet from the slab. He has his arms across his chest and is scowling. He won't look at me.

I wait for him to start talking, but he doesn't, so I say, "I'm sorry."

He looks at me. His mouth has become a straight line. "You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't brought up Lane then-"

"I said, you don't have anything to be sorry for. Leave it at that and move on," he says.

The look in his eyes tell me not to say anything else, but I've never been the biggest advocate for following his instructions.

"Well, are you going to explain what just happened?"

"How much more of an explanation do you need?" he asks.

"Is he not Vick's son?" I ask, ignoring his question.

Gale takes a deep breath. "No."

"Whose son is he, then?"

"Mine."

It takes a few minutes for the answer to set. I play with the word he used to respond to my question like it was a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. I tried it in different places, hoping it would fit, until I found the place where it did. And when the puzzle was finished, I first found relief at finally knowing the answer. But then the bigger picture hit me with increased intensity.

If Lane is Gale's son, then who is his mother?

I looked up at Gale helplessly and try to remember and discover at the same time. Gale, leaning against that tree, his arms crossed, wearing a smug grin as he watches me figure out what everyone else already knew. Gale, who lived in District 2 for thirteen years and never contacted anyone but Rory, who knew his family was suffering without him but didn't care. Gale, who is no longer my best friend, who is my sister's killer, who I can never completely forgive. Gale, who used to love me. Gale, who now loves another. Gale Hawthorne, who can no longer be trusted. Did I ever really know him?

It's hard to believe that the tall, muscular, cold-eyed man standing before me is the same man who cried over me a few days ago. It's even harder to accept that this man I'm seeing now is the same tall, lanky, starving Seam boy that I met nineteen years ago. Maybe I really didn't ever know him. And maybe that's why he came back to 12 alone. Maybe his girlfriend or wife realized that she didn't know who he was either.

It pains me to think of it, but it'll kill me if I don't know. And I may not get the chance to ask again.

My voice is shaking as I say, "Who's his mother?"

There is a deep fear in his eyes when he hears my question. He breathes in deeply and I see him straighten his stance and cross his arms tighter. I know what he's doing. He'ss trying to disguise that he's hiding something.

"That's none of your business," he answers.

I stand up and take a step toward him "It's my business as much as it is yours," I say. I try to keep my voice steady, but it shakes anyway, for reasons I can't explain.

"And how do you figure that?" he asks. A dark grin creeps onto his lips. He knows that I don't have an answer. When I stay quiet, he grins a little further. He uses his shoulders to push off from the tree, then comes toward me until I can hear him breathing.

"You have to tell somebody," I say. "I know you, you have to let out your anger sometime."

"Who said I'm angry?"

I pause. I guess I assumed that there was some sort of bad blood between him and Lane's mother. But why else wouldn't she be here in 12 with him and Lane right now?

Gale takes another step closer to me. I can feel his breath now and I can smell the scent of pine and smoke clinging to the leather of his hunting jacket.

"What if," he says, grabbing a piece of my hair and messing with it absently, "I actually loved her. Maybe even as much as I loved you."

The past tense stings for a split second, but his close proximity distracts me and I stop thinking rationally. He puts his hand on my neck and strokes his thumb along my jawline.

"And what if," he continues, "I still love her? What if I got over my feelings for you the moment I met her? If that was all it took to forget you. How would that feel?"

His words have little impact on me. He's only doing this to work me up, I try to remind meself. I shouldn't be giving in to this, but the feeling in my stomach doesn't want to make him stop.

When I don't answer, he says, "I bet you'd feel a little like this."

Within seconds, he reverses our positions and pushes my back against the tree. He's close enough that I can feel his heart beating. I can only hope that he can't feel mine, or else my fear of him and what he could do to me out of anger right now, could be misconstrued for something else.

His eyes look me up and down, but not in a lustful way. Instead, he looks as he did all those times in war, right before he killed an enemy. It crosses my mind that maybe this is how he looked when he found out that he killed Prim. I shudder in fear at the thought, and he pauses.

"What's wrong, Everdeen?" he asks, although it sounds more like a snarl.

"Is this how you acted when you figured out you killed Prim?" I ask. I see pain in his eyes and continue. "All fearless and big and proud of yourself?"

I push away from the tree and began walking forward. As I walk toward him, he walks backwards, as if he's afraid of me.

"Why did you come back here anyway? If you love this new wife of yours so much, why didn't you stay gone with her?"

"She's not my wife," Gale interjects.

"Oh, so you don't love her as much as you claim. Okay. So you came here to start over and expected everyone here to be okay with that?"

"You're the only one with a problem here, Katniss," he says. "And I told you, I could never hurt Prim."

"But you did!" I scream. "You did and now she's dead, and you come back here like you never did a thing wrong in your life."

I'm crying now, and he looks like he's on the verge of doing so. The tears continue pouring from my eyes. If he's going to kill me, then now is the time. I'm too weak to fight back now. The look in his eyes gives me the strength to ask him the question I've been dying to ask for thirteen years.

"Are you even sorry?" I whisper.

He nods. Three tears spill from his eyes. "I'm sorry every day."

If it had been anyone else in the world, I would've told him to save it. But this is Gale. My ex best friend, Gale. And if Gale cried, there was a reason. So I continued to listen.

"Every morning, I think of what I did. Every night, I wonder what I could've done to stop it. I had no idea she was down there, Katniss. You have to believe me."

And for a second, I do. "If I said I believe you, then I'd have to forgive you."

Gale shakes his head. "I don't need you to forgive me, Katniss. I just want you to trust me when I say that I would never intentionally hurt Prim."

"How can you expect me to trust you?" I ask.

"I don't. Not after what I've done. But I'm asking you to anyway because I know that the old Katniss is in there somewhere."

"What does that mean?"

"We've all changed, Katniss."

"You're the only one who changed for the worse," I fire back. I immediately regret my words. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says. "I needed to hear that."

We stand there in silence. I watch him as he finds a small rock next to his foot and kicks it across the yard. The silence continues until finally he breaks it.

"We should go back inside," he says. He starts toward the back door without looking to see if I'm behind him.

* * *

 **A/N: I understand that this chapter is short. I didn't want to confuse anyone more than they are right now. I know that this chapter probably blew your mind in a really, really bad way and that you're probably so confused by the all-acrosss-the-board emotions that you could probably scream, but bear with me. Gale's secret-keeping and mixed emotions are huge hints about what's really been going on in District 2. Over the course of this story, I will be dropping some major hints. I want to see if you can piece together your own theory before the answers are revealed!**

 **As a side note, I want to let everyone know that I am truly trying my hardest to make everyone happy with this story. It's been difficult so far. Some people want Peeta, others want Gale. I personally was setting a goal for both. Some people want Katniss to fight for Gale, others want Gale to fight for her. I have my own strategy for getting them together. Basically, I just want everyone to please remember that I am trying my hardest to keep everyone's hopes for this story in mind, but unfortunately, my story can only have one ending. But I truly hope that you will be satisfied with the end result, regardless of the storyline.**

 **Let me know your thoughts about this chapter and your theories about what will happen next. Much love to my readers and reviewers!**


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I walk back inside a few seconds after Gale and shut the door behind me quietly. Hazelle seems to have gotten everyone in check while we were gone; everyone is silent and staring at us.

"Everything okay?" Hazelle whispers to me when I sit down.

I nod. No need to say anything.

The rest of dinner isn't eventful. We stay relatively quiet aside from the occasional, "please pass the salt," or, "please pass the butter." So when everyone is finished and Hazelle announces that it's time for dessert, no one seems surprised when I stand and say, "Actually, I think we'd better be heading home."

Hazelle gives me a sad look. "Katniss, please stay. Please. We haven't had a chance to catch up, and I'm sure the kids would love some dessert."

"What is it?" Maysilee asks.

"Raspberry pie," Hazelle replies and smiles at her.

Maysi says, "Please, mommy!"

I look at everyone around the table. All except one of the Hawthornes are watching me, waiting for my decision. The one that's not watching is staring down at the table, probably wishing I'll leave.

Peeta stands up from beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "Katniss, let's stay. For the kids."

"No, we really need to get home. It's past Will's bedtime and he still needs to rest."

Rory, Vick, Posy, and Hazelle all look genuinely sorry to see us go. I don't bother looking to see if Gale is or not. Probably not, though. After we all exchange goodbyes and goodnights, we begin to walk towards the door. Peeta, carrying Will, who is now sound asleep, walks outside before me. I'm halfway down the sidewalk, with my hand on Maysi's back leading her to the car, when someone calls out her name.

"Maysilee!"

I turn around, as does Maysi, to see Lane running after us.

He comes to stand in front of us. "Maysilee, I have something for you!"

"Lane!" Gale's voice comes from inside the house. I hear his footsteps coming outside, then they stop. I turn around to see that he's stopped several feet away from us, watching his son. "Lane, come back inside. They're leaving."

He looks at me coldly, and I quickly avert my attention to the kids.

"I wanted to give you this," Lane says, and he removes a hand from behind his back to show her a small, circular piece of metal.

Maysi takes it into her hands and observes it. "Thank you," she says.

Then Lane hugs her and for a moment, all I can see is myself and Gale. Every hug, every kiss, every touch. Every time he's saved me, every time I've saved him. Everything. And what follows after is beyond my control: I look to him, probably looking something like nostalgia and hope, and I can almost see my feelings reflected in his eyes, but then he looks away and suddenly my wish is let down again.

"Alright, Lane, it's time for them to go. Come on," Gale says, holding the door open for him.

"Go ahead to the car, Maysi. I'll be right there," I tell her.

I watch Lane run back inside. When he reaches the door, he looks up at his dad with a smile, and Gale looks down at him with the same glimmer of nostalgia I thought I saw in him just seconds ago.

It's easy to see why. Just as Maysilee gets most of her looks from me, Lane favors Gale. I can't believe I didn't realize it was his son when I first saw him, because now the similarities are unmistakable. Lane has the same brown hair and facial structure as his father. His eyes are a strange shade of blue that I've seen somewhere before, but can't place. He appears to be on the taller end of his age group, which was certainly passed down from his father. Gale and I would have to be crazy not to see the resemblance.

As Lane goes inside, Gale seems to suddenly notice my presence. He looks up and first seems surprised. I expect him to be angry. Instead, his eyes sink in defeat, a look I've only seen on him a handful of times before.

I keep thinking he's going to say something, and I think he's trying to find words, but nothing ever comes out. So he turns around and shuts the door behind him, leaving me behind in the cold.

* * *

When we get home, we put the kids to bed and climb into our own shortly after. Nights at our home are rarely eventful. Peeta and I usually go to bed without much conversation beforehand, but tonight is different. Tonight, he has questions.

I try to avoid them by reaching over to turn off my lamp as soon as I'm in bed, but he puts a hand on my arm to stop me.

"Can we talk?" Peeta asks.

I fake a yawn. "Can it wait until the morning? I'm really tired."

He's in decisive for a moment. "No, we shouldn't wait," he finally says.

I try to hide my annoyance. I prop a pillow up behind me and sit back against it. Peeta scoots to the end of the bed so he can sit across from me.

"How did you like the dinner tonight?" he asks.

I sigh and close my eyes. "Peeta, if you have a question, just ask it."

I know I put him on the spot, but I'm not sorry for it. He likes to work up to big topics to prepare himself. Fifteen years of knowing him has taught me that.

"Okay. What did you and Gale talk about?"

That's an easy answer. "Lane."

"His son," he confirms to himself. "And you talked about Prim?"

I'm taken aback by the assumption. But I shouldn't be; Peeta knows me better than I know myself. And it's like he always says, I'm not a good liar.

"And you're still mad at him?"

I shake my head. "I don't know."

"Is he still mad at you?"

"I don't know if he was mad to begin with."

"Then is he mad now?"

"I don't know," I say.

He studies my face for a while, and I look down at the sheets. My fingers trace pictures on them absently. Suddenly, Peeta's hand is on mine and I jump, pulling my hand away. He doesn't look offended by what just happened, so I look back down at the sheets. This time, I keep my hands away from him.

He clears his throat a little. "I won't be mad, Katniss."

I look up, startled. "About what?"

"About whatever happened between you and Gale tonight. I trust you and I trust him. All I'm asking is for you to be honest with me."

I take a second to consider his words. He does trust me, more than I deserve. But I can't tell him everything. That would constitute him knowing how I felt, how Gale felt. And Peeta can't know that. So I lie.

"We got a little emotional is all," I say.

Something in his face tells me he doesn't believe me, and I can see the hurt in his eyes. But he lets the topic drop.

"Okay. Goodnight, Katniss. I love you."

"I love you," I say back.

And after that, the lights are off and we're both comfortable on our opposite sides of the bed. It's only when I'm lying on my side with my eyes closed, thinking about Gale's hand, soft and strong against my cheek, that I realize how long it's been since I felt this separated from Peeta. But my hand comes up to rest on my face, and I forget everything else and pretend my hand is Gale's.

* * *

The doctor comes in the morning to check up on Will, as was our deal. He gave Will some pills, which he took reluctantly, and gave us some information on how to care for him until he's better.

"Isn't this something you should be given us before we left the hospital?" I asked.

The doctor stared at me, surprised that I called him out.

I was about to say something again, but Peeta stopped me.

"Pick your battles," he said, and I decided he was right.

Then, Peeta left for work, although he can't really work. The bakery is closed, but Peeta has decided to go over to help repair and restore the inside of it. He doesn't think it's fair to make those people work to repair his business, even though I've explained to him that it's their job and they want to be doing it.

An hour after Peeta leaves, I'm standing by the front door with my keys in hand and Will by my side, waiting for Maysilee to come downstairs.

"Maysi, why is this taking so long? We're going to be late!"

"One more minute!" she says.

Another minute passes and she still isn't here.

"What are you doing now?" I yell.

She comes bouncing down the stairs then. She's wearing a grey dress with white tights underneath and black shoes. She's buttoning her navy blue coat as she comes down the stairs. Her dark hair is in two braided pigtails. When she gets closer, I notice something on her coat.

"Maysi, what's that on your coat?" I ask.

"That's my pin," she says.

She comes closer and I squat down in front of her to get a better look. It looks old and a little dirty, but there's no mistaking what this is.

It's my mockingjay pin.

"Where did you get this?" I ask, my voice shaking.

"From Lane. Why, mommy?"

It feels surreal that my own daughter was wearing this pin, having no idea who it belonged to and what it meant to so many people. Even worse that Gale's son is the one who gave it to her.

"No reason," I lie. "It's just that maybe you shouldn't wear it to school."

'Why not?" she asks.

I smile at her as I take it off of her coat. "Because it's so pretty that the other girls might get jealous."

"Oh," she smiles. "And they might take it?"

"Yeah. We don't want that, do we?"

She shakes her head.

"Right. So mommy's going to keep this until you get home, okay?"

"Okay," she says.

I drop the pin in the pocket of my jacket. "Alright. Let's go to school."

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry for the short chapter! But two posts in one day makes up for it, right? The next chapter will be pretty long. Even better, next chapter is the official beginning of our love triangle! :D whoop!**

 **I want to let everyone know that the love triangle is only beginning in this story. I've given you guys the basic back story and beginning, so we're about to get into the real stuff. A few of you who had the advantage of knowing my plans for this story have been asking where I'm going with this. Honestly, I've really known which of my 3 possible directions I'll end up taking. I'm going with whatever comes to me at this point. But the ending will be the same no matter which direction I take. And thanks to everyone who commented on me wanting to make everyone happy. I've learned that this is my story and it's my job to make everyone love it even if they hate it.**

 **Please remember to review! Thank you to all my readers, but especially my reviewers, for the support I've gotten. You guys are so nice and I love getting to know all of you as readers.**


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

Most of the parents in District 12 like to walk their children into their classrooms in the mornings. Usually, I don't do this simply because of the number of parents that would want to talk to me about the Games, the war, and other things I'd rather not talk about. But today, I do. Today, I have a purpose.

"Why are you coming in?" Will asks me.

I grab his hand and Maysi's as we cross the parking lot and walk down the sidewalk.

"Because I wanted to spend some more time with you, Willy," I say.

I feel bad about my excuse after I use it, but I can't go back on it. After I drop off Will in his classroom, I take Maysi to hers. There's no sign of Lane, even though Rory said he would be in her class starting today. Then I remember, Gale is usually right on time. Never early, never late. I look at the clock on the wall. Three minutes.

"I have to go now," I say to Maysi.

"Stay for crafts!" she says.

"I can't today, but maybe soon. Have fun, okay?"

"Okay. Love you!"

"I love you too, Mayse."

Then I walk out of the classroom. Just as I suspected, Gale is at the end of the hallway, walking Lane in for his first day of school in 12. He's talking to the pretty, young, blonde-haired secretary of the school and paying little attention to anything else.

Lane spots me when they're only a few feet away. He smiles and jogs over to hug me.

"Hi, Aunt Katniss," Lane says.

I'm taken by surprise by his name for me, but I try not to focus on it. "Hi, Lane."

Gale's face goes blank when he hears my voice.

"Hey, Gale," I say.

The blonde secretary, whose name is Delana, looks between the two of us.

"Oh, I forgot that you know Mrs. Mellark," she says. "I would've asked her to show you around."

I could've sworn I saw him flinch at the sound of my name.

"No, that's fine. I'm glad you didn't," he answers. Then he walks in the classroom without her.

She looks confused. I shake my head at her and hold a hand up. "I'll handle it. Thank you."

She smiles, even though I can tell she's still confused about what just happened. "It's no problem," she says. "And can you tell him to call me if he has any other questions? You picked a cute friend."

I give her the fakest smile I can manage in spite of my disgust. "I'll tell him."

I scoff when she walks away. Some women are beyond my ability to handle.

About this time, Gale walks out of the classroom. He's on a cell phone, typing quicker than most people I know. I take a second to wonder what job he has that he's able to afford one. Peeta has one. He offered to buy me one, too, but I refused because of the price. In the second that it takes for this thought to pass through my head, he has walked right past me.

"Gale!" I say, jogging to catch up with him.

He puts his phone in his pocket and gives me a side glance, but he doesn't stop walking. What?"

"I need to ask you something," I say.

"Okay," he says.

"Not here."

"I'm busy, Katniss."

"Yeah, I get that, but I really just need to talk to you in private. It won't take long."

He stops walking and I realize that we're outside now. It's cold and the clouds are gray and stormy. The wind is blowing.

"I live with my family. This is as private as it gets," he says.

"Peeta's at the bakery. We can go to my house."

Gale raises his eyebrows. "You said you had one question."

"Yeah, but it wouldn't hurt to talk."

Gale scoffs and starts walking toward his car. I run after him.

"After last night?" he says. "I'm going to say no."

"Gale, no." I grab his arm to stop him. "I thought it through, and we need to talk. You were right."

"When did you think it through? Just now?"

"No," I say, a little offended. "I thought about it all last night. And I still have that question."

"I don't have time to talk. Just ask your question."

I roll my eyes. "Seriously, what could you possibly have to do?"

His stance tightens and he looks to the side. "It's private."

I hesitate, wondering if I should believe him. "Just come over."

"No," he says.

"Gale, seriously," I say. "Please."

He stares at me for a long time, deciding whether to take my offer or not, but he finally does. "Fine. What's the address?"

I tell him our address and how to get there, then drive home. Somehow, he gets there before I do and is sitting on the front steps. I walk up them and unlock the door. I walk in behind him and shut the door behind me.

"Nice place," Gale says. " I never expected you'd be up for building a house."

"I guess people change," I say, then realize the double meaning.

"Yeah, they do," he agrees. He's not talking about building houses anymore, I know that for sure.

"How about we sit in here?" I say.

I lead him into the den, where I sit on the far left cushion on the couch. We have two black leather chairs facing each other. The couch, chairs, and television create a square around the coffee table. He could've chosen either of the two chairs, but instead, he chooses to sit on the right side of the couch. I have my legs crossed, and I'm directly facing him with my back to the arm of the couch.

"What's your question?" Gale asks.

"Let's not talk about that yet. I need to apologize."

He raises an eyebrow.

I take a deep breath. "For avoiding you all these years. And for avoiding you now. Last night changed things."

"Okay," he says. It's his way of accepting my apology, of creating a truce.

I smile a little. We're not friends yet, but we're not enemies anymore. That feeling alone takes a weight from my shoulders.

"You never told me how you like 2," I say.

"It's different," he says. "Lots of rich people. Most of them look like they're a step away from living in the Capitol. The women are only looking for hook-ups. Nobody wants to settle down. There's a lot of kids but I don't want Lane hanging around them."

"So you moved back."

"Yeah. Couldn't take it anymore."

The mention of women in District 2 leads me to wonder what experiences he had with them. I wonder if it's okay to ask that sort of thing.

"Did you ever date anyone there?"

He looks surprised and confused by my question, but answers anyway. "Yeah. I didn't want to but I had to. Lane needed a mom."

"What happened to his mom?" I ask. The look of pain in his eyes is unbearable. I look away quickly. "You don't have to answer that."

"She died. A long time ago," he says.

"You loved her a lot," I say, and it was more of a personal realization than something he needed to reply to. Knowing that he was being honest last night about loving Lane's mother made things a little easier. But something about it also felt wrong, like Gale shouldn't love anyone else. Like he couldn't.

"I did," he says. "More than you can know."

I look at him again. The pain is still in his eyes, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips. It's a smile I remember from the many digs he made at Peeta, back when Gale loved me instead of this mystery girl. I feel a need to defend Peeta.

"You don't know that," I say. "I love Peeta more than you think."

"Do you?" he asks. He wears an innocent expression.

"More than your wife could ever love you."

Gale clenches his fists at his sides, but he looks as if I hurt him. "She wasn't my wife. She died before she could be."

My mouth falls open. "I'm sorry," I gasp. "I didn't know."

"You do now," he snaps. Then he laughs suddenly. His tone softens. "Love is a funny concept. You can love someone more than life itself until you see someone that you used to love. Then things change."

I nod without thinking. "I know."

He looks hopeful. "Do you?"

"Yeah," I say.

I realize that we've moved across the couch toward each other over the course of our conversation. We're facing each other. My right leg is crossed my left is hanging off the side of the couch. Gale's hands have somehow found themselves holding mine.

"Then you know how I'm feeling right now?" he asks.

"Yeah," I answer softly.

He's somehow entranced me. How, I'm not sure. But it doesn't matter.

He leans forward and kisses my forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment longer than they should.

"That's all I needed to know, Catnip," he says.

Then he squeezes my hands, which are still in his, one time before letting them go. Gale stands up and I stare at him longingly, wanting so badly for him to sit back down and talk to me.

"I have to go," he says.

"Okay," I say, even though I want a reason to make him stay.

As he's heading toward the door, I remember something.

I stand up from the couch. "Gale, wait."

He peeks his head back in through the white arch to the den. "Yeah?"

"I forgot to ask you my question."

"Fire away," Gale smiles.

"Um, Lane gave Maysi something last night," I say as I fish it from my pocket. "And I found it on her coat this morning."

I hand him the pin. He falls silent as he flips it over in his palm.

"How did he find this?" Gale says to himself. He looks up at me. "You're sure Lane's the one who gave this to her?"

I nod. "That's what Maysi said."

"I haven't seen this pin in seven years," Gale says.

"I haven't seen it since we were in 13," I say. "How did you get it?"

Gale smiles a little. "I knew the war was going to end. There was no doubt about it. The only thing I didn't know was what would happen once it did end. But I knew you would come back here with Peeta and wouldn't want anything to do with me. If I never saw you again, I had to have some piece of you to keep for myself. So I took the pin. After Lane was born, she started getting sick and I knew she was dying. So I showed her the pin. I think that made her happier than anything had in a long time."

"Your girlfriend?" I ask.

He nods. "She loved you."

"Me?"

He nods again. He sees my confusion, but whatever he's hiding keeps him from addressing it.

"See you soon, Catnip," he says.

Then he's gone.

* * *

The rest of the day flies by as I dance around the empty house, feeling happier than I've felt in a while. I guess the feeling of restored friendship does that to people. I briefly wonder if Gale feels the same way, then shake the thought away as I hear a key jingling in the lock at the front door. Seconds later, Peeta is walking in, holding two manila folders filled with papers.

"You're early," I say, walking over to greet him.

"Yeah, there wasn't much baking to do today," Peeta jokes. "But there's a lot of paperwork. Do you mind getting me a pen?"

"Yeah, sure," I say. I go into me and Peeta's office, which is off of the right hall.

Our house, which we built ourselves about a year after moving back to District 12, is located not too far from the Victor's Village. Speaking of, the Victor's Village is still standing today. Only two of thw houses are occupied now. Haymitch lives in the house he always lived in, and Peeta's old friend, Delly , lives in the other with her new husband and two boys. One of the boys is Will's age, and they play together often.

Anyway, the house is laid out interestingly. Upon opening the front door, you enter the foyer. There are two white archways. The one on the left goes to the kitchen, and the one on the right goes to the den. If you continue straight down the foyer, you come to the stairs, but you can also turn left to go down the left hallway or right to go down the right hallway. Down the left hallway is another aechway that goes into the kitchen from the other side. Inside the kitchen is a back door that leads to me and Peeta's garden. Across the hall from that archway is a door going into the guest bathroom and another door to the laundry room. Down the right hallway is another archway coming into the den from a different angle. The den is a bright and cheerful space. Long, white windows cover all three of the walls, with white shutters to cover them. The walls are light gray and reflect the sunlight well. Anyway, at the end of the hall is a door to me and Peeta's office. If you go upstairs, you'll see me and Peeta's room to the left, then a bathroom, then Maysi's room, then Will's room.

The house's overall appearance is orderly and put together, which might have been considered unfitting up until now. Because until today, I still had buried feelings about Gale. And Prim. And a thousand other people and a thousand other places that I never thought I'd stop worrying about. But somehow Gale's presence in my house, restoring old feelings that I didn't know I was still capable of having, changed everything.

When I go in the office, I grab Peeta's pen and go to the kitchen. There, Peeta has set up a work area on the table. He has on a pair of glasses that the doctor gave him in the hospital. I forgot to mention that the smoke from the fire impaired Peeta's vision. Nothing severe, thankfully, but he can't read things up close without them.

"Thanks, Katniss," Peeta says when I hand him the pen.

"You're welcome."

I sit down and watch him read the papers. Occasionally, he'll use the pen in his hand to sceibble his name at the bottom of something. Five, then ten, and then fifteen minutes pass before he puts the papers and his pen down. He leans back against his chair and sighs.

"I've only gotten through four pages," he complains.

"Do you need help?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "No, but thanks. You wouldn't know what to do. It'd only complicate things."

"You could teach me," I suggest.

"No, really, I can handle it. Thank you, though."

I look at the clock on the oven. "I guess I'd better be going to pick up the kids."

Peeta looks at me from over his glasses. "Do you need me to?"

"No, you're busy. I can handle it."

Peeta smiles. "Okay. I love you."

"I love you," I reply.

I grab my keys from the coffee table where I left them earlier and get in the car. When I arrive at the school, it's 2:10. With five minutes to spare before school gets out, I park in the parking lot and wait. Maybe I'll go in to get the kids today.

I'm looking out the windshield absentmindedly, lost in my own world, when someone taps on my window. I jump from surprise and I'm about to give the tapper a piece of my mind, but when I look, I see that it's Gale.

I roll down the window and grin. "Friends don't give friends heart attacks."

He smiles the same wide-mouthed, teethy smile that I remember from our childhood days. How long ago that seems. Almost like it was a different lifetime. The Katniss I am today has aged by what seems like a hundred years. Does Gale feel the same way?

"I didn't give you a heart attack," he teases. "Your heart might've skipped a couple beats, I'll give you that. But a heart attack?" He shakes his head, looking down at the ground, then looks back at me from under his eyelashes. "I'm not that scary yet."

The look he gives me takes my breath away.

"Anyway," he says, "get out of the car. We're going somewhere."

"What?" I ask. "I have to take my kids home."

Gale rolls his eyes. "So do I. But I have it taken care of. Posy will take them home. She has to drop off eggs, so it's on her way home."

I must not look fully convinced because he sighs. "When's the last time you had fun?"

I try to fish around in my head for an answer, but I can't find one.

"Right," he says, as if my silence was the answer to his question. "Now come on."

"Where are we going?" I ask as I leave my car.

"Just follow me."

Fifteen minutes later, we're crawling under the weak spot in the fence, the same thing I've done every morning for the past thirteen years.

"When's the last time you came here?" Gale asks.

"A few weeks ago," I reply. "I still enter through that same place every time."

Gale laughs quietly with a smile that can only be described as a thousand memories coming back all at once. "Old habits die hard."

Before long, we're at the tree where I used to hide my bow. I use a newer one now. Up until now, my old bow would've brought back memories that I didn't want. Now I welcome them.

I reach inside for my bow and am surprised to feel more than one. I pull both of them out. I throw my arrows over my shoulder and grab my bow, then examine the second one.

"It's mine," Gale says. He grabs the bow.

"You still come back here?"

He nods. "No harm in pretending," he answers shortly and begins walking away.

"Pretending what?" I ask, walking after him.

"That we were okay." He turns around. "But I don't have to pretend anymore."

He smiles and I smile back. Neither of us get a chance to say anything else, though. A rustling of leaves several feet away from us catches our attention. We look in the direction of the noise, then back at each other.

"Deer?" I mouth. He nods, and I grin. It's been a while since I've seen a deer in these woods.

He secures an arrow in his bow and slowly raises it, searching for his target. I do the same, but I search in the opposite direction, covering for him. He touches my arm to get my attention and points toward a small creek. I see not one, but three deer drinking at the creek. Gale nods at me, and I adjust my arrow on the string.

My heart is racing with the thrill of the hunt. I realize how long it's actually been since I felt this alive.

"One," he whispers. "Two, three."

Our arrows fly. Gale's lands in the deer's chest, mine lands in the eye. The two deer take off into the woods. We'll follow after them later. Right now, there's still another to take care of. Gale sends his second arrow through the heart of the third deer. It doesn't make it far into the woods before collapsing.

I take the direction of the third deer, while Gale heads off to find the other two. Several minutes later, he has dragged both deer over to where I am. He rinses the blood from our three arrows in the creek. When he comes back, he sits next to me, his elbows on his knees. He leans back against the tree behind us, and I follow suit.

"How are we going to get these back to town?" I ask.

"No clue," he says. "But they're not too heavy."

"To you, maybe," I say.

I give him a long, hard look and he stares back. Then we both burst into laughter. It's been a while since I laughed this freely. All the laughs I've had have felt forced and fake compared to the weightless laughter that I have with Gale. Our laughter eventually fades into silence that is not uncomfortable, but shared. It's a peaceful silence filled with hopeful thoughts and new feelings.

"I wish every day could be like today," he says quietly.

The warm afternoon breeze awakens the leaves and I close my eyes. I smell the pine needles and listen to the birds chirping around us. Something about all of this feels more like home than anything I've ever felt.

I let myself wonder what my life would be like if I had married Gale. Maybe we'd live in the woods. We'd hunt every morning like it was our own sport. We'd sell some of the game and cook the rest of it. I imagine nights around the dinner table, with a glass of milk and a plate of squirrel in front of us. And then after, we'd sit in front of the fireplace in silence and enjoy each other's presence. Life would be simple. Peaceful, even. Maybe that's what I've needed all this time. Peace.

I feel myself begin dozing off. I'm asleep moments later.

* * *

 **A/N: I promised everybody a great chapter and I think I delivered well. What do you guys think? Leave a review and tell me your thoughts!**

 **This chapter was really special to me. The feeling I got while writing it was different than any chapter I've written so far. Katniss and Gale finally being comfortable with each other is a huge relief. I'm so excited to get into the more complex plot soon!**

 **Remember to review! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. It means so much. I love you guys, you're the best! :)**


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

When I wake, it's twilight. The sky is a dark shade of blue. The trees cast black shadows on the forest floor, which is clothed in leaves. Gale has fallen asleep next to me, still leaning back against the tree. I reach over and shake his arm.

"Gale," I say. "Gale, wake up."

He wakes silently, without a single sound.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," he says. In the dimming light, I can see a grin on his lips.

"I didn't either," I say.

"What time is it?" he asks.

"You're the one with the phone," I reply.

"I didn't bring it," he admits. "But it can't be too late. It's getting darker sooner."

"Yeah, but I'm probably missing dinner. We should go."

He doesn't say anything else. He picks up the smallest deer effortlessly. I think he feels me watching him because he says, "I'll get the boys to help me with the other ones."

A coyote howls in the distance and I shudder. The sound reminds me of the mutts from my first Games.

I put my hand on his forearm. "Gale," I say.

He looks at me with worry in his eyes. "What is it?"

"Promise me you won't come back out here tonight."

I can tell that he wants to ask why, but he knows not to. "I won't," he promises.

We begin walking back to the fence. He carries his kill with ease. It's young and small and probably doesn't weigh more than fifty pounds. When we're out of the woods and standing on the side of the road that splits off, one direction leading to his house, the second leading to my old house in the Seam, and the third going into town, we say our goodbyes. But for a long time, we stare at each other without speaking.

"I had a really good time today," Gale tells me. "Really."

"Me too," I reply.

There's a pause before he speaks again. "Let's do this again."

I smile. "Okay."

Gale smiles back. "I really missed you, Catnip."

He starts walking away before I can answer. I watch him until he disappears over the hill, knowing for sure that I love him.

* * *

"Well, well, well, would you look who it is," says Haymitch when I come in the back door. "Guess you decided you'd enlighten us with your presence, huh?"

Haymitch is sitting with his feet kicked up on the kitchen table. He's leaning back in his chair with his arms behind his head. Something about his tone reminds me of the demeaning, drunk version of him that I know so well.

"Are you drunk?" I ask.

The laugh that follows answers my question, but I let him talk.

"You see, a mentor's job is to make sure his tribute stays alive. So when one of my tributes calls to tell me that it's dark and my other tribute hasn't come home from her outing with her hot ex-friend... well, I'm sure you can see why I'd be a little worried."

"It wasn't like that," I say defensively. "We're friends. I wouldn't do that to Peeta."

"Or would you?" Haymitch proceeds to grab something from the chair next to him. It's a magazine. He drops the magazine on the table in front of me. "Care to explain this?"

I stare in awe at the photo and headline on the cover.

"You might want to sit down, sweetheart. You have a lot of talking to do."

I sit down across the table from him and lean forward on my elbows. "Where's Peeta and the kids?"

"They're spending a little time at my place. I told them I had a little talking to do with you."

"Do they-?"

Haymitch holds up a hand to stop me. "No. And if you play your cards right, they won't ever have to know. But you have to do everything I say. Everything, do you hear me?"

I nod, wondering what he could possibly have in mind. But the picture on the magazine continues to stare me down. _Katniss Mellark and Gale Hawthorne: Inside Their First Reunion After More Than a Decade_ , it reads. And in smaller print below the headline, _Does Husband Peeta Know About His Wife's Affair?_ The cover photo is of Gale and I sitting on the couch earlier today, with his lips on my forehead.

"This is a mistake," I say. "Nothing happened."

"I know that. But they don't."

"This has to stop. The media hasn't cared about my life since my kids were born. Why do they care now?

Haymitch slams his fist down on the table. "Don't you get it, Katniss?" He takes a deep breath to compose himself. "The Capitol feeds off people like you."

"What do you mean?"

He ignores my question. "You need to find a way to hush this before Peeta finds out."

"But it's not true!" I protest.

"It doesn't matter if it's true!" he shouts. "What matters is that you went off with him to who-knows-where today and didn't come back until dark. That's what matters. Oh, and he was in your house while your husband was gone."

"How could they know about that?" I ask, more to myself than to him.

"You might consider shutting your windows," he says. "I hear people can see through them when they're open."

"Shut up, Haymitch."

He stands from his chair, swaying from side to side ever so slightly from the alcohol he's clearly consumed. "All I'm saying is you better find a way to fix this before you get the whole district talking." When he reaches the back door, he says, "I'll send the boy back here." Then, he leaves.

In the few minutes I have alone before Peeta and the kids return, I throw the magazine in the fireplace, then sit and watch it burn. It dawns on me that Haymitch was suggesting I break things off with Gale. But I can't do that, not after the events of today. He'd be crushed.

There's one haunting question that nags me until I can't help but address it. If my friendship with Gale is going to hurt my husband and kids, am I willing to give it up? The answer to my question strikes me as wrong, yet true. No. No, I wouldn't be willing to end me and Gale's friendship to protect them. Peeta would understand that what happened today was purely an act of love between two friends. Right? I'm not sure.

When Peeta walks through the door, he immediately walks over to hug mem

"Katniss, what happened?" he asks.

I pull back from him. "What?"

"Haymitch said he needed to talk to you about something very important. He made me take the kids to his house. What happened?"

I laugh, but it sounds fake. I wonder if he can hear how nervous I am. "He's been drinking. He didn't say anything important to me, he just asked about my day."

He reads into my eyes, trying to see if I'm telling the truth. "Okay," he finally says.

At this moment, I notice Maysi and Will standing behind Peeta.

"Hey, Maysi. Hey, Will," I say. I squat down and open my arms, which the kids walk into with their own hug to give. "How was school?"

"Good," they both say.

"Good," I smile. "Did Posy pick you up?"

They both nod.

"Why did Posy pick me up and not you?" Will asks.

"Because I was busy and couldn't make it. But I'll be there tomorrow," I promise him.

He smiles. "Yay!"

For the first time since I got home, I notice the clock. By now, it's 10:02.

"Peeta, it's past their bedtime."

"I've got it covered," he says. He leans down to scoop Will into his arms, then says, "Maysi, are you coming?"

"Yeah!" Maysi replies.

They begin racing up the stairs. I've told Peeta not to encourage them to do that, that it's dangerous, but he doesn't listen. That's one of my favorite things about him. He's still a kid inside.

While I wait for him to finish, I go upstairs to me and Peeta's bathroom and change into an old grey shirt and blue pants that I wear to sleep in. By the time I'm done, Peeta is in bed. Normally, he would have already turned off his lamp, but he's waiting for me. I'm not sure what to make of this.

When I get in bed, he looks at me seriously. "I know you were with Gale today."

Air leaves my lungs and I'm unable to speak for a few seconds. "How-?"

"Did you think I'd disregard you leaving to pick up the kids and the kids coming back with someone else? I'm not mad, Katniss, I just wish you had told me."

I feel a bit of relief that he doesn't know about earlier today while he was working.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I should've called, but I didn't know until I was at the school."

"It's okay. Just try to let me know next time, alright?"

I nod. "Okay."

He leans in and kisses my forehead. I can't help but let my thoughts take me places I shouldn't go. Gale's lips on that same place less than a day ago had felt much better. Smoother, softer, fuller. He somehow felt more protective. Peeta's lips were just... Peeta. That was it. And some sick place inside me wanted to say that it wasn't good enough.

So I tilt my chin upwards so I can reach his lips. He looks surprised at my sudden affection, but he doesn't object. Our kiss becomes deeper, but not by much. It feels dull. The butterflies I usually get from kissing Peeta aren't coming to me today, and it worries me. So I pull off his shirt as well, trying to get some sense of the Katniss that is usually head over heels in love with Peeta. But I continue to feel nothing.

When we finally fall asleep, his arms are wrapped around me and I'm praying that I'll be over this sudden boredom by the morning.

* * *

The morning begins well. I wake up to the smell of eggs and toast. I put my robe over my pajamas and head downstairs.

"Good morning," Peeta says cheerfully when he sees me sit at the table.

"Hey," I reply.

A few minutes later, Maysilee comes skipping in, wearing her pink pajamas and carrying a stuffed lamb that she calls Lamby.

"Good morning, cupcake," Peeta says.

"Hi, daddy!"

"Do you want some toast?" he asks.

She stands beside him and stands on her toes to see above the counter. "Yes please, with syrup."

Peeta laughs. "No, this is regular toast. Not French toast."

"Oh." Maysi's smile fades for a second, but comes back soon after. "Then can I have it with jelly?"

"You sure can," Peeta tells her. "Go get some from the fridge."

She grabs the door handle on the refridgerator and tugs it. Once it's open, she looks around inside for jelly. When she spots it up high on the third shelf, she stands on her tiptoes to reach it. I laugh and go to help her.

While I'm distracted by Maysi, Will comes in the kitchen. By the time I've noticed him, he already has a bowl of cereal and a sippy cup filled with milk in front of him. Next to his plate are two pills and three vitamins. The doctor came over earlier this morning to supply us with the medicine and also explained how to administer it to him.

"Peeta," I say.

He doesn't look up from the stove. "Hmm?"

"I'll take the kids today."

"I expected you would," he says.

"I was jusr confirming."

"Okay."

I watch him scramble the eggs for a moment more. "Peeta?" I say again.

This time, he looks up. "Yeah?"

I breathe in deeply. _He won't be mad at you_ , I remind myself. _He was the one encouraging it._

"I might see Gale today."

His back is to me so I can't see his face, but he doesn't appear surprised from behind. "That's fine. I'm glad you're getting along."

I don't say anything back. It didn't require a response.

Shortly after, Peeta puts a plate of scrambled eggs in front of me. I take a bite and grin.

"Posy's eggs are the best," I say.

"I know. This week's eggs taste better than they have in months."

I nod to show my agreement.

Twenty minutes later, Peeta has left and I am pulling out of the driveway with the kids in the backseat.

"Are you going to take us home today?" Maysi asks.

"I told you and your brother that I'd be there, didn't I?" I look back in the rearview mirror at them and smile. "Mommy doesn't break promises."

When I pull into the parking lot, I'm thrilled to see Gale leaning against the wall of the school. I get out of the car and help the kids put on their backpacks. We begin walking toward the front doors and with every step toward the school, I get nearer to Gale. He looks up and smiles when he sees me, then smiles at the kids.

"Hey Maysilee, hey Will," he says.

"Hi," Maysi says shyly. Will doesn't say anything but he waves bashfully.

Then Lane greets them and me. I'm shocked at how polite the seven-year-old acts. I never would've predicted that Gale would have such a well-mannered son. But then again, I never really considered the possibility of him having children at all. That's the funny thing about childhood. Adulthood will slap you in the face with reality before a child has the oppurtunity to dream about it.

"Lane, go ahead and take Maysi and Will inside."

"Is Aunt Posy taking me home again?"

"No, Vick's getting off to take you home."

"Okay. Bye!"

Gale smiles and waves at his son as our three kids walk in the school together.

"I assume you're here because you want to hang out with me again?" he says.

I smile. "You know me too well."

"Come on, then. The deer will be moving today."

We start walking, leaving my car behind. It reminds me of a question I meant to ask him yesterday. "Do you have a car?" I ask.

"Not everyone here is filthy rich, Katniss."

"I'm not filthy rich," I protest, offended by his comment. "It was just a question."

He sighs. "Yes, I walk everywhere I go. I can't afford a car. I had one for a while, but then Lane was born and there was a death in the family. The bills started piling up and I had to give up a lot of things I worked hard for."

I stay silent. It's the first time Gale has really opened up to me about his life back in 2. He's never liked people pitying him, so I remain nonchalant.

"But it doesn't matter. I'm happy."

I don't question him any further, but something in his eyes tells me he's not as happy as he claims to be.

A while later, we duck under the fence and run through the meadow to the woods.

"Are the deer still here?" I ask.

"I told you I wouldn't come back here without you," he replies.

When we get to the tree where I hide my bow, he keeps me from reaching for it.

"Let's have an us day. Just like old times."

I smile and say, "Okay."

So we spend the day hunting and eating berries whenever we pass by one of their bushes. We don't end up shooting anything simply because we still have the three deer we shot last night, but we were lucky enough to find quite a few animals nonetheless.

Before we know it, the sun is directly overhead and it's noon. We've finished our hunting for the day and have come to visit our old, special place: the rock that sits in a clearing overlooking the entire district. The grass is high here and the view is great. We used to love this place because we could see everything, but no one could see us because the grass concealed anyone sitting in it.

"It's so pretty out," Gale comments.

"Mmm," I agree.

My eyes are closed as I bask in the sunlight and breathe in the crisp fall air. It takes me a few minuyes to notice Gale staring at me. When I do, I give him a questioning look. He stares down at his hands, which are twirling a piece of grass.

"What is it?" I ask.

He smiles a little. "It's nothing."

I stare him down until he answers.

"It's just that your braid and those leather boots remind me of-"

"When are we going to stop obsessing over the past?" I ask. "We can't keep a friendship going based on just memories."

"That was a deep comment. I'm impressed."

I shove him playfully. "Shut up."

"Here, take a strawberry," he says, handing one to me.

I take a bite from the fruit. "Remember when we used to sell these to the mayor? He loved them."

"Who's obsessing over the past now?" Gale jokes.

I roll my eyes. "This is an exception."

Wordlessly, we watch two bluejays chase each other in the sky. I continue grabbing strawberries out of his hands as we watch.

"I'm glad you ended up with Peeta," Gale says.

I nearly spit out my strawberry in dismay. He sees my reaction and laughs.

"No, really," he says. "I always had this idea that you and I would end up together. It was kind of inevitable if you think about it. I mean, I had my fair share of girlfriends, but none of them were serious. They were just ways to pass the time. But you were so cautious about becoming close to anyone and you didn't really talk to boys. I guess I thought that we would be together eventually whether I claimed you ahead of time or not.

"When you volunteered for Prim, I was devastated. I knew you could survive but the Games are thirty percent survival, seventy percent not getting killed. You were one of the smaller female tributes and the odds were against you. When Peeta told the country he loved you, I was jealous. I wasn't just jealous then, I was jealous for years. I came to terms with it later though, or I thought I did, until I saw you at the hospital. You're more in love with him now than you ever were in the Games or even during the war. Seeing that made a lot of the jealousy come back. But I've thought about it and I see now that he's everything you need. He completes you in a way that I never could."

I can't decide how I feel about Gale's confession. On the one hand, I'm happy that he's happy for me. On the other hand, I am upset by it because I want so badly to say, "You're wrong." To tell him that he also completes me. That he gives me things that Peeta can't. But it would be wrong to say that. It would lead Gale to believe that I don't love Peeta. And I don't want that. I can't want that.

 _What's stopping you?_ The pesky voice in my head asks. _You said yourself that Peeta is boring._

I have to shake my head to clear my thoughts. That's exactly the reason why I can't say anything to Gale. Because then I'd be the woman who left her husband because he was "too boring." I'm not like that woman.

So instead of saying what I want to say, I smile and say, "Thank you. That means a lot."

He smiles back and a miniscule piece of me breaks. What am I doing to myself?

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter turned out to be a lot longer than I expected. I hope everyone enjoyed it! I want to thank everyone for the reviews. It is truly amazing to post a chapter and see that it has 10 more reviews just an hour after posting! Your opinions mean the world to me. Please leave a review for this chapter and let me know your thoughts, what I can improve on, if you want to see something in particular out of this story, etc.**


	11. Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

I am in the clear for one week. One week is all it takes for the gossip surrounding Gale and I to explode around Panem. It started in District 12 with that local magazine and quickly spread to the other districts, eventually making its way to the Capitol.

By the time I hear the rumors that are being passed around, it's far too late to stop them. The rumors say things along the lines of Peeta and I getting a legal divorce, me having an affair with Gale, Gale's son being my child, me being romantically involved with my cousin - that situation was clearly never explained to the publisher of that article - and various other gossip that makes my head spin.

Furthermore, the regular evening news program was interrupted last night by a mandatory viewing of President Paylor giving a public announcement. I didn't see it - I was in the woods with Gale - but Peeta told me that she was very scattered. He said that from what he could decipher, it sounded like she was discussing the Games and its surviving victors. I told him that he must have misheard her, that there was no reason she could have for mentioning us, but he swore that he heard it.

So this morning on the way into the woods, I asked Gale what he had heard.

 _My breath comes out in a cloud when I speak. "Gale?"_

 _It's a cold morning in early December. Most of the trees have lost their leaves and the ones that haven't are well on their way. Gale and I are on our way to the woods to hunt, like we've made a habit of doing every day, except the weekends. On Saturday, we spent the day with our individual families and on Sunday, Peeta, myself, and the kids had another dinner with Gale's family._

 _"What's up?" he asks._

 _"Did you hear about the public announcement last night?"_

 _"What about it?"_

 _"Peeta said he heard something about the living victors. I was wondering if you heard that, too."_

 _Gale doesn't answer for a moment. He appears to be collecting his thoughts. "Yeah, I heard it."_

 _I wait for him to go on._

 _"They want all the remaining victors to visit the Capitol for a few weeks in March. Something about a reunion."_

 _My eyebrows squeeze together while I try to figure out the meaning of the invitation. "Why would they hold a thirteen year reunion?"_

 _"Well, it's almost been fourteen years since the Quarter Quell."_

 _"Still, the timing is weird," I say._

 _"I agree," he replies. "But you should go. My mother was telling me about Paylor's plans for the reunion. She said a few people had already reserved their place."_

 _"Who?"_

 _"Annie Cresta and Johanna Mason were the only names I recognized."_

 _"That's it?"_

 _Gale looks as if he can't find a good way to put what he wants to say. "Well, there aren't many tributes left that you would know."_

 _I feel a pang of guilt, knowing that I had killed a good portion of the tributes from both of my Games. It's my fault that they weren't alive today. And it's my fault that the victors that should still be alive aren't, like Finnick, Mags, and Wiress. And the tributes from my first Games that could have won. Rue, Foxface, Thresh._

 _"You're right," I say. "I don't know what I expected to hear."_

After hearing the news about this reunion, it was all I could think about. If Annie and Johanna were going, surely it would be okay for me to go. And besides, Peeta will want to. We haven't seen Annie in several years. She went through a rough period with her son when he turned ten years old, which was several years ago. Although she never told me what happened, I assumed that he found out what happened to his father and went through a rebellious phase because of it.

Now we are sitting in the grass, leaning against our rock. It's Friday and neither of us are feeling much like hunting. The late afternoon sun makes the grass gleam gold, along with everything else it touches. The sun is setting in the orange sky. It's the color sunset that Peeta loves. It's chilly in the woods under the shade of the leafless trees. It's not too bad in the sunlight, though.

"We could still do it, you know," Gale says.

I look at him questioningly.

He nods toward the trees set in the valley. "Take off. Live in the woods."

I close my eyes and imagine me and Gale, living alone in the woods. The only thing that makes us feel truly alive is hunting. Not hunting alone, but hunting together. In each other's presence. Protecting each other, having one another's back.

But the thought of actually doing it is ridiculous. Gale and I have families of our own now. We couldn't run away.

I glance back at him to see if he was kidding. His face is solemn, showing no signs of humor.

"You can't be serious," I say in disbelief.

He gazes back at me curiously. "Why not?"

"Because I have a husband and two kids to worry about! Not to mention your own son."

I'm standing now, towering over him with bewildered eyes. Does he really want this?

Gale looks away, staring into the trees that are deeply set in the valley below us.

I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. "Are you going to ignore me now?"

"I'm not ignoring you," he answers in a monotone.

"You're not answering me either," I persist.

He sighs and lays his head in his knees for a few seconds. He comes back up afterwards. "Katniss, I don't want to have this discussion."

"You're the one who started it."

"I know that," he replies through clenched teeth. Then he releases another breath to calm himself. "Will you sit down?"

I glare at him until he corrects himself.

"Please."

I sit beside him again and cross my legs, leaning my elbows on my knees and supporting my chin in my hands. We don't look at each other; the trees beyond and the still-setting sun are far more interesting. It takes Gale a while to gather his thoughts into sentences.

"Remember the last time I suggested we do that? We were sitting right here."

I nod. "Reaping Day."

"Yeah," he responds. "And remember, you said you would never have kids. Ever. And I asked you, 'Even if you find someone you love?' and you said, 'Even if I find someone I love.' Or something like that."

"Where are you going with this?" I ask irritably.

Despite my personal agitation, when he looks at me, his features are softer and his eyes lock mine in his stare. "I guess I'm just wondering what changed."

"Gale, I-"

I have to stop mid-sentence to ask myself what I'm doing. _Why are you answering that?_ my conscience screams. _It's none of his business!_ But from the opposite side of my brain comes a voice I usually don't allow. A voice that speaks kindness and reason. Two things that I'm a stranger to. _Because after all you've put him through, he deserves an answer._

He looks down before I have a chance to respond. "You don't have to answer that."

I can tell I've hurt him. That he's been holding that question in since he arrived in 12, or maybe even before. And no matter how unwelcome it is, I realize that the small portion of kindness that I have in my mind is right this time. Gale deserves an answer.

"Because I loved him."

Gale's fingers are tying knots on a long piece of yellow-brown grass. "But you said even if you did love someone, you still wouldn't have kids. You even said you'd never get married, for that matter. All I'm asking is what's different about him?"

I shake my head. "You don't - He - I just loved him, okay?"

He almost smirks at my frustration, but the weight of our conversation pulls him back under. "What does he give you that I can't?"

I'm tempted to walk away without answering, but my mind won't quit drilling me with the reminder. _He deserves an answer._

"He's peaceful. Calm. Soothing. Warm."

"Sounds to me like you're in love with his bread," Gale snaps dryly.

If the insult had been about anyone else, I would've laughed. But the implication that Peeta and I don't truly love each other is preposterous.

"So you don't think we love each other?"

"Oh, I know he loves you. I'm just doubting whether you love him."

My mouth falls open as the accusation sets in. Do I really love Peeta?

"I do love him," I say. Because whether I love Peeta or not, I have to back myself up. I can't let him control my thoughts and feelings the way he has been for the past month and a half.

"Then I guess there's no room for me here," Gale says.

He begins walking away. And as he goes, I feel him not just walking away from the woods, but also walking away from me, from us, from our past, from our future. And I can't say I blame him. I sit on top of our rock, my head in my hands to control the millions of thoughts flying inside it. I should let him go. I've done enough damage. But without warning, I stand back up and begin racing after him.

"Gale, wait," I shout after him.

He stops walking. When I reach him, he doesn't say anything. The distant look in his eyes says enough.

"I'm sorry," I say. "That wasn't the complete truth."

The distance in his eyes makes me feel as if we're miles apart, even though I'm standing right in front of him. They harden and glare at me.

"Then what is the truth?" he asks.

His question triggers something inside of me. Something that I've kept hidden from everyone, including myself, since he got here. Something that I never should've unleashed. The trigger sends these unwarranted words through my lips:

"Peeta keeps me calm. He makes me happy. He loves me more than I could ever love him, and it makes me feel guilty every morning that I wake up next to him. I see him with our kids. He loves them more than anything in this world. He values our family's happiness more than his own. But I'm different. I can't give them that same love."

The cold look has dissipated into one that screams of how truly tired he is. "What's your point, Katniss?"

"Peeta could give me all the love in the world and I still wouldn't deserve it because I can't return it. Because while Peeta fills my life with joy, I still have that fire that I've only ever shared with you. I'd almost forgotten it until you came back. And now you're here and that fire is back and the only way to cool it is to be with you, but I can't do that."

His hands come up to cradle my face. I lean into his touch. His eyes pierce through me like a knife and I know that he knows what I'm feeling. He always tells me I'm a picture book made for kids. Easy to read.

Then his eyes move down to my lips. I watch him, the lust in his eyes, the hunger I can almost feel in his stomach. And then his lips touch mine. They are surprisingly warm against my cold ones, although a little chapped from the weather.

When we finally let go, it seems like hours have passed. He doesn't drop his hands from my face, though. His eyes search deep into mine as he speaks. "I never stopped loving you, Catnip. Never have, never will. Whether you like it or not."

He lets go of me. I smile gently. "I like it."

He smiles back. Then he uses his thumb and index finger to tilt my chin upwards so that our lips reach. This kiss is gentle, maybe even more so than the last. I melt into his touch. This is what I've waited for. This is what I've wanted.

* * *

It takes me until later that night, when I'm brushing my teeth in me and Peeta's bathroom with the door closed, to realize my error. In that moment, I realize that Gale and I made the biggest mistake we could have possibly made. And someone will eventually fall because of it.

* * *

 **A/N: I loved writing this chapter so much! First of all, we got to see a little more of Katniss' internal conflicts over her feelings for Gale. That was fun to write because we've mostly focused on Gale's feelings for Katniss. Second of all, we have reached the end of Part 1 of the story! Part 2 will begin next chapter. This isn't anything major, just a separation between each tiny plot line within the big one. Part 2 will focus on introducing the conflicts that will play into the major climax later in the story, as well as giving more insight on Gale and Katniss' relationship. It isn't going to be completely smooth for them from here, it's not that easy!**

 **Please remember to review! Your thoughts on each chapter are super helpful to me as a writer. Also, I can't believe we're almost to 100 reviews already! Thank you guys so much, I love you!**


	12. Chapter 12

"Secrecy is the enemy of intimacy."

\- Dave Willis

PART II: FOREIGN AFFAIRS

CHAPTER 12

"Did you have fun with Gale last night?" Peeta asks.

He's setting the table for breakfast. Maysi and Will are already downstairs and sitting in their chairs, waiting for Peeta to serve them.

"Yeah," I reply.

The smile that comes with the answer is forced. Yes, I had fun with Gale. We always do. He's my best friend. I can discuss almost everything with him. I can't say the same for Peeta. Our marriage has done us both well, but I've never felt as comfortable confiding in him.

Peeta sets Maysi and Will's plates in front of them. When he's done, he smiles at me. "I'm glad."

I feel the rush of guilt again. This guilty feeling has taken refuge inside of me, or so it seems. That would be the only explanation for its constant presence. To be fair, I admit that the guilt has a good reason for being. Although Gale and I have done nothing more than kiss, I still feel bad about Peeta. Him being more than completely oblivious makes it worse.

Four nights ago, Gale and I shared our first kiss in thirteen years. We both know it's wrong, that our lives would be destroyed if anyone discovered our secret, but we don't acknowledge it. To acknowledge it would be to accept it as fact and not do anything to stop it. And I can't do that. So we sin in silence.

Nonetheless, I'm meeting Gale in the woods again today. We're meeting earlier than usual, though. Making the most of our time together has been very important lately. My relationship status has become a timer over my head. We both know without speaking about it aloud that it's only a matter of time before Peeta finds out. Or before someone tells him.

"Hey, thanks for cooking."

I push my chair under the table and put my dish in the sink. Then I grab my boots, which are standing beside the back door.

"Where are you going?" Peeta asks. "It's only six thirty."

"I know," I say.

"You have to take the kids."

I groan in exasperation. "Peeta, I used to go hunting at dawn every morning up until two months ago."

"Yes, but you were always back in time to take them to school. I have to go in this morning. The workers are finishing up repairs and they need me there."

We observe each other for a while, each hoping the other will back down. Or so I selfishly thought.

"Alright, if you really want to go then I'll figure it out," Peeta says.

I realize that while I was wishing for him to give in and thought he was doing the same, he instead he was trying to find a way to make time from his work schedule for the kids. Yet another reminder of how undeserving I am.

"Thank you," I say, because it would be stupid to go back on my decision now.

And then I leave. I walk down our main street in town. It's still early, so traffic is light and the sun is just coming to the point where the sky begins to turn light blue.

When I pass the mayor's house, I feel another pang of guilt. Madge might still be here if it weren't for me. I try to envision a life where Mayor Undersee is still in control and Madge is still alive. We'd probably be good friends, seeing as her gift of the mockingjay pin brought me so much fame. I wonder if she'd approve of my daughter being named after her deceased aunt. But if the Undersees were alive, countless other families would be, as well. Even a small change like the lives of other people could change the path I took. Maybe I wouldn't have kids. Maybe I wouldn't be married to Peeta. Maybe I would be like Gale. Without a definite answer.

My teeth grind together at the thought. It reminds me of sitting beside the kitchen table, where he was sprawled across, seemingly unconscious. He had just been whipped by 12's new Head Peacekeeper for trying to sell a turkey we had shot that day. I reversed our positions for the first time, imagining that he was in my shoes. That he had volunteered, faked love for a girl he barely knew, and was engaged to her. Then I kissed him. Later, I found out that he had been awake for the kiss, or at least somewhat conscious, because he remembered it happening.

Now, as I reach the meadow and head for the fence, I reverse our positions again. I start from the beginning. What if I had been the one to befriend him, alone in the woods, both of us fatherless? And what if he had been the one to volunteer for Rory at the Reaping? He would've told me to do the same thing I had him do for me: take care of his family. And I would have. What if the female tribute professed her love for him, and he had to return it in order to keep them both alive? And then he came back to 12 with the promise of it being over, but it wasn't true, it could never be. What if he was forced into an engagement with this girl? But before they could get married, they were sent off for yet another Games. What if I was the one sitting back at home watching their Games, wondering if the girl was really pregnant, or if it was part of their survival plan? And when Gale got home safely, would I be devastated that he had no room for me because he was so worried for the life of that girl, or would I accept it for what it was and be the voice of reason, as he was for me? Would I have let Gale go and understand his resentment when the bomb that I designed killed Posy, or would I always be that girl begging to be taken back? What would I do when he ended up marrying his female victor and having two kids with her? Would I have even had the courage to come back to 12 at all? And if I did, would I be understanding when he had an affair on his wife with me, but still loved her?

One by one, the questions file in, leaving me no time to answer them. But I know without a doubt that no, I wouldn't handle it as well as Gale has. And worse yet, the conclusion that I wouldn't be able to bear sharing his affection with the mystery girl.

I can't continue hurting Gale like this. No matter the end result of our "relationship," it will inevitably end soon. Whether it is ended by me, him, or an outside force is unclear. But it will end.

Gale appears in my periphery blocking the just-risen sun and I turn my head to smile. I have to place a hand over my eyes to hide them from the glare of the sun.

"Good morning," he says cheerfully.

"You're in a good mood," I observe. "Any reason?"

He shrugs. "Not one in particular."

"Okay, tell me all the different reasons."

"Like I said, there isn't a reason. I didn't know it was a crime to be happy!"

I nod very seriously, allowing my eyes to widen. "It is," I say. "Punishable by death."

He cracks a smile and holds his head a little higher. "Then they'll just have to kill me."

We start walking toward the rock, as we have been doing every day lately. But something is out of the ordinary when we reach it. The tiny, purple wildflowers - which have crumpled up into grass for the winter and won't come out again until March - that grow around our rock have been replaced. Its replacement makes me lose my breath. It's something I haven't seen in years and certainly have not missed.

The stem of a single, white rose has been buried on the left side of the rock, the place I always sit.

Gale continues walking even though I stopped several feet back. Then he sits on the rock, oblivious to my absence. When he finally turns around, he seems completely unsuspecting.

"What's wrong?" Gale asks.

I don't answer. Instead, I crouch down in front of the rose to examine it. It didn't grow here naturally, that's for sure, because I would've seen it growing there all this time and because roses don't grow in December. Not this kind, at least.

As I investigate the rose, I spot another sign of human planting. The dirt that the bottom of the stem is buried in has large fingerprints around it, suggesting that whoever planted the flower patted the area to even it out. Whoever it was clearly isn't an experienced gardener; the earth wasn't even and the rose was drooping slightly.

I pick the rose from the ground and hold it up for Gale to see. He nods after a few seconds of confusedly staring at it.

"Who put it there?"

"I don't know," I answer.

I lower my arm and take a minute to stare at the rose myself. I can barely stand to touch it. It doesn't smell of blood as President Snow's roses did. This smells of something different. I can't put my finger on it, but it's distinctly familiar, yet something like a distant memory. It's like I've smelled it in another life or something. If I believed in second lives, I would end with that conclusion. But I don't. I know I've smelt it before.

A twig snaps in the woods behind us. I jump to my feet and raise my hunting knife - which I always carry with me for emergency situations when I may not have my bow - and aim in the direction of the noise. I see a shadow behind a tree. I'm about to throw the knife when Gale jumps up and stands in front of me.

The shadow becomes a person as it emerges from behind the tree and into my line of vision. I slide my knife back into my belt and take a few steps in her direction.

"Johanna?" I say. "What are you doing here?"

 _Johanna Mason, District 8._ I can almost hear Haymitch's voice telling me who this tall, slender, brunette woman was for the first time. I haven't seen her since Will and Peeta were in the hospital. This was the last place I expected to see her again.

Since I last saw her, she's grown out her hair to where it just barely hits her shoulder blades. Her brown eyes gleam with confidence, which is nothing new. She's wearing a black, leather jacket - an expensive one, I can tell - with a white shirt underneath, black leather pants, and black boots.

I expect her to sit down and start talking business. For her to come all the way here from District 8 and then hike all this way into the woods to find me, it must be serious. So I'm taken by surprise when she shrugs her shoulders and casually plops down on the rock, facing us.

"I heard about your little hangout and thought I'd come check it out. It's not bad." She gestures toward the valley behind her. "It has a nice view."

Gale and I exchange equally-disbelieving looks.

I cross my arms across my chest. "Why are you really here?"

She flashes her signature cocky, mischievous grin. "I told you."

Gale speaks up. "You didn't come here to relax, Johanna. Start talking."

She sighs. "You two are so suspicious of everything. Can't a girl have a day out with her friends?"

To my surprise, she motions for us to come toward her. Gale and I look at each other wearily before coming forward. She stands up and ducks her head down, motioning again for us to do the same. Then, she begins her explanation.

"It's not safe to talk here, but it's the best we'll get."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"We're bugged. Every district, every house. Even the trees. I'm pretty sure they don't have microphones out here though. That's why we're here. Now listen. They sent the technicians to install the cameras two weeks ago."

"Who is 'they?'" I question her again.

She looks at me with the pitying look she often uses with me. "That's for me to know and you to find out. Trust me, it'll be soon."

"Get to the point," Gale says.

Johanna glares at him. "Anyway, I came here to tell you not to listen to the Capitol. For that matter, don't believe anything you hear from Districts 1, 2, and 3 either."

"Why?"

"What do I keep telling you?" Johanna asks, clearly fed up. "You'll figure it out on your own. I could be shot down on sight if anyone found out I was telling you this. Imagine what they'd do if I told you more. There's not anything else I can tell you. Just remember what I said."

She suddenly notices the white rose that I dropped beside my feet when I heard the twig snap.

She gives one short _hmph_. "Looks like Snow's back in the game after all."

"What?" I ask, my voice rising in fear. "Snow is dead."

"Will you be quiet?" Johanna whisper-screams. "I said I didn't _think_ there were microphones out here. That didn't mean you have the 'okay' to yell!"

I let out a breath and compose myself. That's all the time it takes for Johanna to glance at her wrist watch and decide to leave.

"I have to go. My next stop is District 4. Annie."

She's backing away from us and is about to take off when I stop her. "Wait. So you're not going to the reunion?"

Johanna laughs. "Oh, you can bet your buttons I'll be at the reunion. But I'll be throwing my own after party."

Seconds later, she's gone, which leaves Gale and I to ponder over her words.

* * *

It's mid-afternoon when I get home, but the sun is already setting. Peeta's car is in the driveway when I walk up. He flings open the front door when I reach the top step.

He throws his arms around me and kisses my cheek. "Hey, sweetie. Welcome home."

I return his hug, confused by his public affection. Anything physical in our marriage is done in private, not on the front steps where the entire street can see us.

"Hey," I say. My voice sounds as confused as I am. "Thanks for picking up the kids."

He gives me a look that warns me against saying anything else. Then he ushers me inside and locks the door behind us.

"Come in the kitchen," he says.

I follow him in and stand on one side of the counter between two stools. He stands on the other side and puts his hands on the edge of the counter.

"How was hunting today?" he asks.

"It went well. We tried to get something for dinner but couldn't find anything good. There wasn't much out today, I guess."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Are you sure?"

I nod with a puzzled expression. "Yeah... Why?"

He doesn't answer at first. He instead scans my face. "Why do you try to lie?"

"What?"

"You and Gale weren't hunting today. You haven't been for a while now, actually. Why don't you tell me what you were doing today."

"We were hunting, like I told you."

"You're lying," he repeats.

"I don't know what you're-"

"You're not a good liar, Katniss. You keep lying and lying and what you don't realize is that I can spot one of your lies easier than I can spot this stain on my shirt."

He points at a dark spot on his white button-down shirt. I make a weak attempt at a subject change.

"How did that happen? You just bought that shirt."

Peeta gives me a stop-giving-me-nonsense look. "Don't try to change the topic. We're talking about you right now. What is really going on out there?"

I look between Peeta and the door. I'm ashamed to admit that I consider running to the woods. Unfortunately, hiding isn't an option.

"I'm not lying."

A tear forms in the corner of Peeta's eye. He brushes it away. "Then what is this?"

He places three magazines on the counter in front of me. One is the magazine that Haymitch showed me, the second is a District 8 celebrity news publication, and the third is a Capitol tabloid. All three of them have similar headlines, and all three of them have similar cover photos. Me and Gale in the den in my house. Me and Gale saying goodbye to each other before we go our separate ways at the cross-roads between the Seam and town. Me and Gale kissing in the woods. Every one of the photos is as horrifying as the next, because there's only one way that they could have been taken, judging from camera angles and their locations.

Johanna was right. District 12 is still bugged.

* * *

 **A/N: This was the first out of many things that will lead up to big secrets. I can't say much else because I don't want to give anything away. I was so excited to write this chapter because we're finally getting into the suspenseful, action-packed part of the story! There will still be enough Gale/Katniss and Peeta/Katniss to go around but as you saw in this chapter, it won't be the same between Peeta and Katniss anymore.**

 **As a marker of Part II and of our 109 review milestone, I want to thank everyone who has contributed in motivating me to continue writing this story. I love my reviewers!**

 **BellaLovesNutella, Bonibuuu, ColMikeFuser, Dana, Danain, Eleid, Everlarkdiehard, Giovanni, Guest, Haleema1998, Hawthornegirl, Inesish, itz-jocelin2000, JodiCatherine, Julie, kertwall, Rockerflat, Sarael, Sonya, sxcthing123, wouldratherbeaunicorn**

 **Please review and tell me your thoughts on this chapter and your predictions on what's going on in Panem. I like to hear your theories, they're all so creative!**


	13. Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

I stare blankly at the photos, not comprehending how this could be happening. Gale and I weren't even a thing. We'd done nothing wrong! Well, yes we had done something wrong. It could be considered cheating on Peeta. Or if we were being old-fashioned, adultery. This is more serious than I originally thought.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper.

A whisper is all I can manage. It takes every ounce of gut in me to meet Peeta's eyes for a split second. I immediately look back down at my feet when I see the hurt in his eyes. I'm not even trying to deny what we both know happened. Maybe what's hurting him even more than knowing that it happened to begin with is me not trying to cover it up. He has proof. There's no story I can fabricate to make this okay.

"You don't have to be quiet," Peeta says. His voice is shaking. "The kids are at your mother's house."

I nod. "Good. They haven't seen her in a while."

We're silent for what feels like hours, trying to summon the courage it takes to ask and answer the questions troubling us both. Peeta composes himself enough to speak.

"How long?" he asks.

"Just since last week," I reply quietly.

I still can't find it in me to meet his eyes even though I can feel his on me.

"You didn't-"

I glance up at him and realize what he's alluding to. "No, nothing like that." My answer doesn't seem to reassure him much, so I add, "I wouldn't do that to you."

He lets out a sad, nervous chuckle and motions to the magazines. "Well, I didn't think you would any of this to me either."

"I'm sorry," I say again.

"Why did you do it? What am I doing wrong?"

"You're not doing anything, Peeta. That's the problem."

"What does that _mean_?" he cries.

"It's just... different. It has been since Will got sick and the fire. And I thought that when your surgery went well with the burns, it'd get better. But it didn't, and then I thought it'd be better once Will recovered, but it still didn't. And then Gale and I made up and everything happened too fast."

"So it's my fault?"

"No... I don't know."

We stare at each other for a long time. Thinking. Then Peeta looks at me with the most devastated look I've ever seen on a person. "Well when you figure it out, please tell me."

Then he walks around the counter to me, kisses my forehead, and takes a step back. His actions leave me apalled. I cheated on my husband and he kisses me?

"Why-?" I begin.

He interrupts me. "I'll love you no matter what, Katniss. I knew you'd never be able to love me the same way you love Gale, but I hoped you'd at least try."

"I did, Peeta. We've been happily married for eleven years," I say.

"But that was without him here." He shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for allowing this to happen. Not to us, but to the kids."

My eyes widen as I think for the first time of what I'm doing to my children. "We can't let them figure it out. We have to act like we're okay."

Peeta nods.

He drops his head and tries to duck out of the room, but I stop him. "Peeta," I say, his name coming out in a hurt, childlike voice that sounds nothing like my own. "I do love you."

He gives me a sad half-smile in return. "I love you, too. Always will."

I nod. He starts to leave again but then he adds something else.

"The truth is out now, so..." he awkwardly fishes for words, "You can spend the night with him tonight if you want."

"I told you it wasn't like that."

He shakes his head. "You don't have to explain it to me. Just sleep where you want to tonight. I'll sleep on the couch if you still want."

"We don't have to-"

Peeta holds up a hand to interrupt me. "I think it would be best."

* * *

I wake up on the sofa in the den. Bright, late afternoon sunshine is glowing through the windows. I must have slept in.

Today is Friday. Peeta probably took Will to the bakery with him this morning; Will doesn't have day school on Friday. Maysi is at school right now, probably sitting across the room from Lane. The two of them have become good friends since Lane joined her class. I think it's nice, like watching Gale and I as children through our own eyes.

Fridays usually mean a day of relaxation for myself. Peeta comes home from work early enough to take the kids home. He probably will today, too. The only difference between this Friday and every other Friday is the silence that will thicken the air around Peeta and I. Or maybe he'll put on a happy couple facade to protect the kids and our family name. Yes, that's probably what he'll do.

I don't make an effort to move from the couch. I just lay in place, not necessarily deep in thought but deep in mind. After a while, I realize that I must have switched places with Peeta in the middle of the night. Or maybe he moved me. I have become a heavy sleeper in my adulthood. The slightest movement used to wake me as a child. Now, it wouldn't surprise me if Peeta had carried me down the stairs in the night without waking me.

Before I know it, it is noon. The sun no longer shines in my eyes through the windows, as it is overhead now. I've sat up but that is all the moving I've done. Suddenly, someone gives three heavy knocks on my front door.

I move cautiously toward the door. No one ever comes to visit us, especially uninvited. Honestly, I think the people in town are a little intimidated by me. Maybe even scared. They rarely come near me, let alone come to my house. And as for the people that I would be okay with as visitors - well, they know better than to arrive out of the blue.

So I peak out of the window in the kitchen. It's cleverly placed at an angle where it gives a clear view of whoever is on the porch without revealing myself. The sight of the person standing at my door makes me suck in a sharp breath.

Gale.

I don't know what to do. Letting him inside would mean risking someone seeing us. Pretending I'm not home would be a dead giveaway of my predicament with Peeta; our car is in the driveway. Of course today would be the day Peeta chose to walk the short distance to the bakery rather than drive there. And leaving Gale outside without acknowledging him would either worry him or infuriate him, depending on his purpose for being here.

With a hundred different reasons why I _shouldn't_ let him in flying through my head, it takes me a moment to decide on what I do next: open the front door, lean against the frame, and casually greet him.

"Hi," I say.

"Hey," he says back, a trace of anger in his voice. "Where have you been?"

I let my face do the talking. I give him a look of question.

"We were supposed to go to the woods today. It's Friday. We were going to fish. Catch something for tomorrow night."

"Oh, tomorrow night. That reminds me. I can't go."

Gale looks at me incredulously. "You can't go?"

"No."

"Why not?" he demands.

"I just remembered that I promised Haymitch a dinner soon."

"Soon doesn't mean tomorrow night. You could've told me."

"I am now," I say.

He takes a minute to read me. I should know better than to fool Gale. He knows things about me before I know them myself, how did I expect him to believe me now? "Are you okay?"

"Never been better," I answer.

"You sure?"

I nod.

"Why didn't you show up this morning?"

"I slept in."

"You haven't slept in a day in your life," he says disbelievingly. "Something's wrong."

"No there's not," I argue.

"Don't lie. Stop lying."

I sigh. "Nothing's wrong! I didn't want to see you today, alright?" Something resembling pain flickers across his face and I realize how my words came across to him. "I didn't mean that."

"It's fine, Katniss. That's all I needed to hear."

I try to interrupt him so I can explain myself. "Gale-"

"You know where to find me if you change your mind."

As I watch Gale walk away, back toward his home, I begin to cry. Because I have now lost the one person in this world who I know I can trust. The one person who came into my life with nothing binding us together, yet he never left my life until I told him to. The one person who, if I am sure of nothing else, I am sure that I love him.

* * *

"Where's Gale?" Peeta asks.

He has just gotten home with the kids. Maysilee and Will have both gone into the den to watch television while Peeta and I talk in the kitchen. Of course, the first thing he wants to talk about is the source of the tension between us.

"At home, I guess."

"He didn't come to pick up Lane," he comments.

"He never does."

"Does he work?"

I begin to shake my head, then realize that I have no idea if Gale works. The topic never came up. So I say, "I don't know."

"You didn't see him today?" he asks.

"No." My answer comes automatically. It doesn't register as a lie until it's too late for me to take it back.

"Did you go anywhere?"

"No," I answer, annoyed. "We don't have to play Prison and Guard, Peeta."

"We're not. I'd just like to know when my wife leaves my house to spend time with another man."

I press my lips together. I guess that isn't too much for him to ask from me, even if it does feel like he's prying. Guilt washes over me like a waterfall. He asked me what he has a right to know and I lied to him. What's worse is how quickly the lie came to me, as if I had been practicing for the moment I would use it. And now I'm thinking of Gale. How I lied to him today, too. I keep digging myself deeper with every word I speak.

So I break the quiet between Peeta and I. "I'm sorry," I say. To him, it's an apology for snapping at him. It's me giving in to him and agreeing that yes, it's his right to know when I'm with Gale. But to me, the apology runs much deeper. It's my penitent for having deceived him long before anything really formed between Gale and I. For only briefly considering what I was doing to our family. For continuing to lie even now, when I should be confessing to everything I've done.

In response, Peeta says, "Thank you."

It dawns on me that this is why I love him. Not Gale, but Peeta. Because Peeta is more forgiving than I could ever be, and that's what I needed when I was at my lowest. When my friends, fellow soldiers, and complete strangers had died for a cause that I created. When I had been the one to kill some of them. When Gale had just killed my sister, the one person who always brought joy to my life no matter the situation. After she died, Peeta took over her place in my life. He was the one to deliver cookies and bread and small cakes to my doorstep every morning. He was the one who I could always count on to read to me or garden with me when I desperately needed something to distract me from the tragedy that had then become my life. He was the one who stayed the night when I asked him to. He was the friend that was there when no one else understood what I was going through. And eventually, he embodied the dandelion in the school yard. Though he continued to have problems with his flashbacks and his memory and still does to this day, he began to become the Peeta that I had once known. It was only then that I knew him and I were meant to be together in some way, because even without the Capitol's threats and the fear for our lives, we still stayed together. We remained close. We became closer.

Looking at us now, it's hard to believe any of that ever happened. We have become different people than the Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark that first fell in love with each other and got married eleven years ago. Because where it once seemed that we could only grow closer together, now it seems as though we can't get farther apart.

* * *

After dinner, I go upstairs to me and Peeta's room. I need to be alone. I need to think.

The bed looks inviting after such a long, emotional day. So I lay down, my back pressing into the soft mattress, and I stare up at the ceiling. The lamps on the end tables provide a warm glow that lights it up. Peeta and I painted this ceiling. We painted the entire house, actually. Well, the inside at least. Peeta's childhood friend, who had always dreamed of becoming an A-list home designer in the Capitol, painted the outside of our house when he heard we needed help. I haven't seen him in years. I assume he made it out of Twelve and went to the Capitol.

I recall the memories Peeta and I made painting our home. It was a time when we were young and had a million aspirations since the Capitol had been taken down. We were open to move to any of the thirteen districts, and we could even send a request to the Town Hall if we wanted to live in the Capitol. After a ten to twenty day waiting period, we would receive word back as to whether we were allowed permission to relocate to the Capitol. We had no interest in going back there, but knowing that we could if we wanted to made everything seem more free.

 _"Peeta, where's the paint for my room?" I shout down the stairs._

 _Within seconds, he appears at the bottom of the stairs holding two cans of paint. "These?"_

 _"Yeah," I say._

 _He begins ascending the stairs, carrying the paint cans with no problem._

 _"You act like those weigh nothing," I comment as he reaches the landing at the top of the stairs. I take one of the cans from him._

 _"They aren't that heavy."_

 _I laugh. "Says the boy who used to throw bags of flour every day."_

 _"Want to know a secret?" he says. I lean in towards him. "I still do sometimes. For fun," he whispers._

 _"Really?"_

 _"Yeah," he replies. "When I'm baking. It makes things fun. I can't throw them around anymore though. My leg isn't as young as it once was."_

 _He motions to his prothetic leg._

 _"How about we take these in my room?" I suggest._

 _"Sounds good to me."_

 _Before long, we each are standing in the empty space that will soon be my bedroom, with a paintbrush in hand and an open can of paint at our feet. I point Peeta to the wall that I want to start on. We paint quietly for a while, both of us enjoying the late afternoon sun that pours through the open windows._

 _"This is a big house to be living in by yourself," Peeta comments. "And it's a long way from my house."_

 _"It's only a five minute walk from your house. And I told you, my mother's going to be living here too until she finds another place to stay."_

 _"And what are you going to do when she does?"_

 _"I guess I'll live here by myself. Why are you so worried about it?"_

 _Peeta shrugs. "I guess I wouldn't want to live in such a big place. Without anyone to scream to when I have nightmares."_

 _A blush creeps into my cheeks. Recently, Peeta has been the one to save me from my nightmares. I've been living with my mother in my old house in the Victor's Village since I returned to 12. It's a troublesome place to live, what with the memories attached to it, which is why I decided to have my own house built about a mile away from it. It's walking distance from Peeta and Haymitch, and not far from where my mother intends to move in a few years. I've asked her why she doesn't go ahead and move now. She's never said it straight out, but I think she's worried about me. About my ability to live alone with the ever-present threat of nightmares. She must be scared of what I'd do to myself if I had a nightmare without her there to calm me. To be honest, I'm scared, too. But I can't live with my mother for the rest of my life. I have to cope with my fears sooner or later, and if we're being truthful, I'd rather it be sooner._

 _Anyway, Peeta and I have become good friends over the past year. At first, I wasn't sure if having him around would be good for me. Or for him. But he somehow convinced me to let him come inside sometimes when he drops off baked goods at my house every morning. A month ago, as his gift to me for my twentieth birthday, he helped me pay for a good portion of the costs to build my new house. The catch to his gift was I also had to let him help paint, decorate, or any other work that needed to be done. I tried to turn down the money and his offer, but he wouldn't let me._

 _So here we are now, in the last week of June, working together to paint my house._

 _I wait until my blush fades to reply. "I can still call you."_

 _"It wouldn't be the same as having me right across the yard."_

 _"Can I take this as you saying you'll miss me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and grinning at him._

 _"No, I'll admit that I'll miss you. I do already."_

 _His confession makes my chest swell. It's a feeling that I don't ever remember having before, although it's similar to the time I said goodbye to Prim, my mother, and Gale before my first Games. I shake the memory away, but not the feeling. I try to speak, but my throat closes up unexpectedly._

 _"But I'll still come visit you," Peeta adds, giving me time to compose my sudden sadness._

 _"I'll come see you, too," I say. "Every day."_

 _"We could even alternate days, if you want," Peeta suggests. "I could come Mondays, you could come Tuesdays. Something like that."_

 _I nod. "Yeah."_

 _"And I can still stop by in the mornings to bring you cookies. It's not too far out of my way."_

 _"That would be nice," I say. When the words come out, it sounds like I'm crying, probably because I'm about to. I clear my throat to cover it, but he's already walking over to me._

 _"It's okay, Katniss," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me. "Moving a few minutes away doesn't mean we can't still be friends."_

 _I smile into his shoulder. "Thanks," I say. Then I straighten up and release him._

 _The feeling I have next is foreign to me, unexpected. I suddenly get a fluttering feeling in my chest. Without thinking twice, I lean in and give him a quick kiss on the lips. When I pull back, Peeta blinks in surprise, then chuckles._

 _"I don't know why I did that," I say._

 _"It's okay." Peeta blushes. "I liked it. You haven't kissed me in a long time."_

The memory of that warm afternoon brings a smile to my lips. But the present hits me too soon, and any trace of happiness disappears as I wonder why I allowed our relationship to get like this. I had forgotten how much I once liked Peeta. That day in June, while painting the house that we now live together in, I had developed feelings for Peeta that I knew to be real. They weren't influenced by the Capitol, or the districts, or even him. He had been content with just being friends after his hijacking. It's funny to think that now, twelve years and some odd months later, we're at the place where we are now.

I once thought that me and Peeta's marriage would last as long as we both lived, or maybe even longer. But now, it seems questionable whether our marriage will last another month.

As I drift into sleep, the last thing I remember thinking is not how badly I want Peeta back. Instead, I think of how badly I want Gale.

* * *

 **A/N: A few of you brought up a few problems I've had in the planning of this story. I'm not going to mention them because hopefully some of you read over them without noticing. Just to reassure everyone, I WILL be going back to correct these errors soon and I'll explain anything about the story that you don't understand in later chapters. Thank you for pointing these things out! Also, I'm sorry for the late update this week. I've been super busy! Hopefully this chapter is long enough to make up for it.**

 **Please remember to review with your thoughts and ideas! Thank you to my reviewers and readers for making me a happy writer!**


	14. Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Someone knocks on my bedroom door, which I shut when I turned in for the night after dinner. I reach over to turn on the lamp beside my bed, then I rub my eyes and look at the clock across the room. It's 2:26. Far too early for anyone to be awake.

Nonetheless, I proceed to slide out of bed and open the door. Within seconds of opening it, my mouth is clamped shut and hands tighten around my wrists.

During my time as a soldier, I learned that when being held captive you should first determine the gender of your attacker. Then, if you aren't able to see him or her, you should use your other senses to memorize his or her features. Figure out your attacker's strengths and weaknesses. When you have enough information to support yourself, fight back.

So far, I've completed two of the three steps. My attacker is a male. There is something familiar about his scent, something that smells distinctly of nature and the outdoors.

"Keep quiet," a deep voice orders. It's a sound that I'd recognize anywhere, yet I don't.

Along with my "kidnapper," I am led through my house and out the front door. We embark straight into the winter cold. The ice on the ground freezes my feet and seeps into my socks, which are the only things covering my feet.

We finally reach the place I'm being led to. My attacker lets go of my wrists with a shove. To my surprise, the shove sends me pressing back against a solid brick wall. Then he comes forward and I can see him for the first time.

My mind is still foggy from slumber and I can't put my thoughts together. I know I've met this man before. His scent is something unmistakable. If I could think straight right now, I'm sure I could figure it out.

The man grabs my arms and holds them by my sides. I'm sandwiched between him and the brick wall with no way to escape. Then he kisses me and an immediate feeling of recognition clicks in my head.

I know who he smells like now; he wears the natural scent of pine trees and winter like it's his own perfume. And his kiss is rough from chapped, wind-bitten lips that I've kissed only a handful of times in my life. But they are lips I'd have to be dead to forget.

The stranger is Gale.

I make a strange noise in the back of my throat and try to push him off of me, but he only kisses me harder. So I comply and kiss back, causing him to grin against my mouth.

"Hey, Catnip," he murmurs.

The use of his nickname for me confirms what I already knew. It's too dark to see, but I know that a mischievous smirk is adorning his lips.

"Gale," is all I can say in response before his lips meet mine again.

When he finally lets go, I'm breathless. The freezing winter air certainly isn't helping; it burns down my throat and dries out my eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him before he can kiss me again. His face is no more than an inch from mine. His breath warms my face.

"Stealing you away for an hour," he replies. "I'm not giving you up that easy."

"We shouldn't be here," I say. "What if someone sees us?"

"Who do you think is out this late at night?"

He's right. We're concealed in a dark, shadowy alley in town. It's the dead of night. You'd be crazy to wake up and leave your house at this time. No one will see us.

"Why did you lie to me earlier?" Gale asks.

The question takes me by surprise. "What?"

"You lied about why you didn't come to the woods. What really happened?"

And so - with his gray eyes piercing mine, the icy wind scraping its nails down my spine, and the drowsiness still bogging me down - my judgement remains impaired. I know shouldn't tell Gale the truth. It would make things worse, so much worse. Not to mention complicated. But I end up telling him anyway.

"Peeta knows," I say.

"About us?" Gale asks.

"Yeah. There were magazines. Pictures of us kissing and stuff."

I can hear his smile when he speaks. "Were they hot?"

I glare at him even though I know he can't see. "I wasn't worried about if the pictures were hot, Gale. I was concerned with my marriage. Which barely made it through today, in case you were wondering."

"It was a joke!" Gale protests. "I do care about your marriage. I can't believe it happened. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry Peeta found out and you're sorry that I'm upset. But you're _not_ sorry about what happened and you don't regret what we did. Don't play that with me."

He takes my face in his hands and looks into my eyes with a seriousness that he's lacked since the war. "I can never regret you," he says. "And something tells me you can't either."

He kisses me once more with an intensity that I've never felt from him. A thousand individual kisses could not make me feel the way this one does. Fiery, burning, uncontrollable. As if I am a wildfire that cannot be tamed.

It's now that I truly can see the difference in my feelings between Peeta and Gale. Peeta used to bring me joy, which was something rare and foreign to me. But Gale's love has never been candypops and butterflies. It has only ever been fire. Burning a flame through the sacred darkness that it takes place in.

Half of an hour later, we are in our special place in the woods. Just us, alone. He is leaning back against our rock and I'm laying against him. His arms encircle me and mine are wrapped around his chest, holding him tight. A small part of me is afraid of letting him go.

We sit like this for a while, just watching the moon change positions in the sky. It's peaceful. Something about the silence of the woods at this time of night is relaxing, yet it feels forbidden at the same time. We could do anything right now, absolutely anything we wanted, and no one could lay a finger on us. The only creatures that are awake are the crickets, and they couldn't touch us.

Eventually, the question that has been bugging me for weeks comes to the front of my mind again. I can't seem to forget about it, so I ask. "Gale?"

"Hmm?" he murmurs, the noise muffled from his mouth against my hair.

"What is this?"

He looks down to meet my eyes. "What do you mean?"

I grab his hand and play with his fingers absentmindedly. I reword my question. "What are we?"

"Best friends," he answers. "Why?"

"You know there's more than that. Best friends don't look at each other like we do. They don't act like we do when we're together. They don't kiss."

"I don't know what else we could call it."

I sigh. "We shouldn't be here. Not alone, not like this. If anyone saw us-"

"Shh," he interrupts. His arms tighten around me and he rocks us gently. I am a child he has to rock back to oblivion. "No one's going to see us."

"That's what I thought before," I say, sitting up. He sighs.

"Before?" he asks, urging me to continue.

"Before the magazines and articles. Before the entire country knew that we've been seeing each other."

"'Seeing each other' sounds like it's more than it is."

"Then tell me what it is!" I shout. "Because I don't know!"

"Shh!" He tries to clamp a hand over my mouth, but I'm faster and I'm already standing.

"Tell me what this is because I'm tired and I need an answer if I'm going to keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Lying to my husband!"

Gale's eyes narrow and somehow the darkness makes him seem more menacing. "You don't have to lie to him."

"What am I supposed to do? Tell him the truth? That I'm meeting you in the woods secretly? That there's something romantic between us?"

He interrupts my rant by pressing his lips to mine gently. This soft, sweet kiss is new to me. I've never had Gale kiss me this way. When he pulls back, his eyes stare into mine with only one question in them.

I know what he wants.

Before long, we are indulging in something sweet and sacred, wrong and in no way right, and above all things, forbidden.

And when it's all over and I am heading back to my house bundled in my leather jacket and red scarf, I cannot seem to overcome the overwhelming sensation of falling in love to realize the extent of my wrongdoing.

* * *

Dawn has not yet broken when I reach my house, but it is on the verge. A few birds have begun singing their morning song but the others haven't caught on yet. The sky is that strangely bright shade of dark blue that it always becomes just before the sun begins to rise.

I quietly unlock the door and creep down the front hallway, careful not to wake Peeta as I pass by the den. He's a light sleeper. The smallest noise could wake him. I have just made it past the entry to the den and I'm thinking how glad I am that I didn't wake him, when I hear his voice, low and groggy with sleep.

"Katniss?" he says. "Is that you?"

I close my eyes in silent annoyance, breathe in deeply, and go into the den.

"Yeah, it's just me. Go back to sleep," I say.

"No, come here."

He sits up and pats the empty space next to him on the couch. I take a few steps closer to him, but I don't sit.

"Where were you just now?" he asks.

"I went out to the woods."

He doesn't ask why, but his eyes tell me he wants to.

"To hunt. I didn't get to yesterday."

"You catch anything?" he asks. There's no sense of suspicion or anger in his voice.

"No, nothing was out."

We stare each other down. He's wondering why I'm lying, I'm wondering why he's going along with it. But neither of us voice our thoughts.

"Why else were you out there?" he finally asks.

I reply, "I just needed some air. I couldn't think."

He nods. He must understand what I mean. Maybe he went out on our small front porch tonight, too. After the kids went to sleep. Maybe he needed some air. Maybe it helped him think through what's happening between us. I know exactly what he would've done. He would've leaned against that wooden railing that we painted a bright shade of white so many years ago, back when things were okay. And he would've closed his eyes and imagined that moment, much like I did tonight before I fell asleep. He would've imagined it because it was time when things were easier. Because looking at it now, those times seem a hundred years away. And the only way for us to get through now is to remember then.

"I'm going back upstairs," I tell him.

"Okay," he says. I have just made it to the doorway when he stops me. "Hey, Katniss?"

I turn back to look at him. His tired eyes look at me with a concern that I don't deserve from him. It immediately brings back my guilt.

"Try to get some sleep, okay?"

I nod. "Okay."

* * *

I wake again to the sweet fragrance of pancakes wafting up the stairs. I can smell the buttermilk mixture that means Peeta is making breakfast from scratch. Not necessarily a good thing.

When something is going wrong, Peeta always makes breakfast from scratch. Normally our meals consist of Peeta making omelets (or eggs if he's running low on time), maybe a few slices of toast with jam from the berries I pick in the woods, and a few slices of meat from whatever kind of animal I caught that morning or the day before. He hasn't ever admitted to it, but I think making breakfast gives Peeta a sense of control when he knows he's lost all of it.

"Good morning," he says when he hears me enter the kitchen.

"Hey," I say back.

Maysi and Will are already at the table, eating pieces of bacon. The sight of it gives me an unjust feeling of anger. We don't have wild pigs in our woods, they live in District 6. For Peeta to have gotten his hands on bacon, he must've spent a good amount of our money at the butcher either this morning or last night. Did he think that my game wasn't good enough?

Then I remember, I haven't brought anything home in days. It's been even longer since I had some good meat to show for myself.

I come back to focus when he glances over his shoulder at me. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, you?"

"I didn't go back to sleep," he answers solemnly. I'm preparing to apologize for waking him, but he adds something before I can. "It's fine, though. I didn't know how much I needed the quiet time."

I don't respond. There isn't anything else to say. I wish I could apologize, but of course I'm aware of my children sitting a few feet away. Whether they're consciously listening to us or not, I'd rather not get into a conversation about my unfaithfulness in front of them. That was the real reason for me being in the woods this morning, after all.

Recalling the early hours of this morning makes blood rise to my cheeks. I try to will the blood back to where it originated, but my cheeks continue to burn. Thankfully for me, Peeta has his back turned and doesn't notice.

I sit down in my usual chair next to Maysi.

"Did you two sleep well?" I ask the kids.

Both of them nod. Maysi points to her mouth to let me know that she has her mouth full. I laugh at her.

By now, Peeta has fixed two plates of pancakes: one for me and the other for him. Once he sets them down, I ask why Maysi and Will aren't eating any.

"They already had some," Peeta answers.

"Oh," I say.

Peeta leans back in his chair to grab the newspaper from counter behind him. Then he sits back straight and opens it. He begins to read silently and I know that he's trying to avoid conversation with me now. Which is fine by me.

I look over at the kids. Will is playing with a piece of bacon on his fork. I'm about to scold him, but Mr. Dad-of-the-Year beats me to it.

"Will, please don't play with your food."

Will looks irritated that he was reprimanded, but we taught him well. He smiles politely at Peeta and says, "Okay, daddy."

I continue watching the kids. Will has gone back to eating and Maysi is just finishing. Something about Maysi - wearing a light blue night dress with her hair down and wavy, and a concentrated look on her face as she chases her last bite of oatmeal around her bowl with her spoon - reminds me of myself. Whatever it is makes my brain click.

"Maysi, what do you think about going hunting with me today?" I announce.

My six-year-old looks at me, surprised at my suggestion. She smiles back at me with bright eyes. "Can we really?"

"If you want to."

She hops down from her chair to sit on my lap. "Can I use a knife?"

I haven't thought much about what weapon she could use. In the back of my mind, I always supposed she would use the same bow that I used when I was just a little older than she is now. It was one that my father made for me.

"Um..." I say, thinking. "Yeah, if you want to use a knife then I don't see a problem with it."

"Can you braid my hair like yours?" she asks.

"Sure bet," I reply.

"Yay!" she says. "Is daddy going, too?"

Peeta looks up from the paper at the sound of his second name. "What'd you say, cookie?" he asks.

My heart throbs with happiness when he calls her by her nickname. He called her "cookie" for the first four years of her life because her favorite thing to eat as a baby was sugar cookies. At first, he called her "my sugar cookie" until he decided it was too much to say and shortened the phrase to a single-worded nickname. Ironically enough, her first word was "cookie."

He hasn't called her by that name in at least two years. Not since Will was born. I've always felt as though Maysi has been left out and forgotten since he was born. But there were complications with his birth - he was born two months early - and he's always had problems with his left lung, which is underdeveloped. We've had our hands full with him, leaving us little time to spend with our daughter.

Peeta calling her by her nickname makes her noticeably more cheerful.

"She asked if you wanted to go hunting with us later this afternoon," I tell Peeta.

His eyes hold suspicion as he asks, "Is he going to be there?"

"No," I reply. "It's just mother and daughter time."

"I'll stay here with Will, then. But I'm sure you'll have fun," he says to Maysi.

"Okay," Maysi says. At first, she looks disappointed, but she perks back up instantaneously. "When are we going?"

"Why don't we go now? We can have the rest of the morning to hunt. Then we can eat lunch in the woods. And if you're still up for it, we can keep hunting until dinner time."

Maysi gives me a wide smile and goes upstairs to get dressed.

It takes all I have to ignore the glare that Peeta shoots me across the table.

Don't bring him around our daughter, his eyes warn. It'll be a mistake.

An hour later, Maysilee and I are trekking through the woods. I've warned her to be quiet so as not to disturb the animals. I'm surprised to find out that she's light on her feet, almost like she's dancing among the leaf-covered earth beneath us.

"When am I going to throw my knife?" she asks. She points to the small knife that is secured at her hip.

"Whenever we see something," I tell her.

A few minutes later, we hear a rustling of leaves. I turn to see that Maysi is looking at me questioningly.

"Is that an animal?" she asks.

"I don't know. Stay here," I say.

"Where are you going?"

"Just up there." I point a little way ahead of us. "I'll be back in a few seconds, okay? I'm just going to see where the noise came from."

So I leave her standing next to a tree, knowing that the area is harmless. We aren't deep enough in the woods to see anything threatening. She'll be fine if I leave her for a minute.

As I wander into the woods, I come across human footprints. This crosses me as strange. As far as I know, Gale and I are the only ones who hunt in these woods. I haven't been to this particular area of the woods in years. I usually stay closer to my old house in the Seam, but this is an area east of that. And Gale stays in the same vicinity as me. So who has been out here?

Again, I hear leaves crunching under someone's feet. I turn around. I can make out Maysi's figure in the distance, still standing next to the tree I left her at. It wasn't her.

"Oh hey, Katniss!"

I turn on my heels at the speed of light and draw an arrow into my bow, only to find that it is pointed at Vick Hawthorne.

I release the air I had been holding in and lower my bow. "Hey, Vick," I say. "What are you doing out here?"

"I was out here with Lane. Gale was supposed to meet us here in a few minutes."

"Where's Lane now?" I ask worriedly.

"He's out here somewhere. I'm not too worried about him."

"Maysi's out here with a knife," I say. "She's never been hunting before."

Vick's eyes widen. "Let's find her before she finds him."

We run back to where I left Maysi. I'm relieved to see she's still there, waiting.

"Vick!" she says when she sees who I brought with me.

I smile as they hug each other. When they let go, I ask if she has seen Lane.

"No," she responds. "Where is he?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Vick says.

Then comes the sound of running footsteps through piles of dead leaves. Seconds later, we see Lane approaching us with Gale not far behind.

"Vick!" Gale yells.

His palms make harsh contact with his younger brother's chest, shoving him a few feet back. Vick stumbles backwards but catches himself before he falls.

"What crawled in your grains this morning?" Vick asks. "What made you so mad?"

Gale's eyes narrow. "Finding my son wandering around the woods alone is bad enough without him telling me that he has no clue where his uncle is! What were you thinking?"

Gale doesn't appear to see that Maysi and I are here as he continues pushing Vick while Lane watches.

"We got separated for a few minutes. Big deal."

"It is a big deal!" Gale shouts.

I've never seen him this mad before. I'd thought that he was intimidating all those times when we were younger and he would yell at me. This is an entire different form of intimidation. A different kind of fear. This side of Gale is genuinely scary.

By now, he has his fist raised to punch Vick square in the jaw. I won't deny that I'd be just as mad if this had happened to my son or daughter. But I can't let him hurt Vick.

"Stop!" I say, running over to grab Gale's punching arm.

He is bewildered as he looks down at me. My suspicions are confirmed, he had no idea we were here.

"Katniss," he says in realization. He looks behind us and sees both of the kids standing beside each other, watching. "Vick, why don't you take the kids and let me hunt with Katniss for a while?"

Vick raises an eyebrow suggestively, to which Gale shakes his head.

"I promised Maysi I'd take her hunting today. She's never been," I say.

"Then Lane can stay. Go home, Vick."

I don't try to contain in my laughter as Vick hangs his head, sniffing as he walks away, mocking a feeling of rejection.

Once he's gone, I turn back to Gale. "Let's go find a bear."

"That would take an insane amount of luck."

I wink at him and smile. "Then it's a good thing we're lucky."

I pretend not to see him staring after me longingly. Better not to get involved with that now. But after a few more hours in the woods, the pressure of pretending to be just friends is weighting on both of us.

Gale has declared it as lunchtime, so we're all venturing out to a small group of cabins, which are located deeper in the woods than I usually have time to go. We end up entering the same cabin that I helped Bonnie and Twill in. It seems like that was another lifetime.

Gale pulls out four sandwiches, each one wrapped in transparent plastic. "I packed two each for me and Lane, but we'll share," he jokes.

"You don't have to do that. We ate a late breakfast," I say.

He gives me a look that warns me not to protest again. "You're eating the sandwich."

In the end, my objections were unsuccessful. We eat our lunch slowly, enjoying the bursting flavor of the dry turkey in our mouths. We wash it down with water from the pond in front of the cabin, which Gale improved by squeezing some blackberry juice in our tin drinking cans.

Gale and Maysi finish eating before Lane and I. They try waiting for us for a few minutes, but Lane and I are enjoying the food, not rushing through it. Gale's impatience gets the best of him, though.

"Is it okay if I take Maysi outside to look for squirrels?" Gale asks me.

"Sure," I reply as I swallow a bite of my sandwich. "Be careful."

"We will," he promises.

"Don't worry about us!" Maysi pipes in.

Gale and I laugh at my daughter's unintentional humor. Then he takes her back into the woods, leaving Lane and I alone in the cabin.

"Let's finish eating outside," I suggest. "It's not too cold."

Lane agrees, so we move our things onto the rotten front porch of the cabin. Maysi and Gale are out of sight by now. The birds are making noise all around us. Overhead sunlight is warming us, making the colder weather not seem so bad.

We eat with minimal conversation, just enjoying the scene around us. Suddenly, Lane speaks.

"Do you love my dad?" he asks.

I'm taken aback by his question. At first, I don't have enough time to contemplate the reasoning behind him asking.

"Yes. I-I love him," I stammer.

"A lot?" Lane asks.

"Yeah," I say. "A lot."

Lane doesn't answer. I'm relieved that he didn't press the topic. I have to remind myself that he's only seven years old. He barely understands the concept of love. I have no reason to worry about what he'll do with this knowledge. Besides, children have better things to think about than their parents' love lives. An hour from now, he probably will have forgotten that this conversation ever happened.

"Did you know my mother?"

Again, I'm struck with surprise by his inquiry. "Your mother? Not personally. I don't think I did, at least."

"That's what I thought," he mumbles.

"What do you mean?"

"My dad says you knew her, but I told him he was wrong."

"Why do you think he was wrong?"

Lane shrugs, his coat-clad shoulders rustling as his arms slide against his sides. "You'd be sad like him because you would love her."

Trying to make sense of his explanation is like trying to make sense of a complex surgery, so I ask a question of my own, thinking it might clear things up.

"What was your mother's name?"

Lane seems to be thinking. His mouth opens to answer and I'm seconds away from discovering the identity of Gale's ex-lover. But we are interrupted by Gale and Maysi stepping onto the porch. Gale holds an unidentifiable bird by it's neck. At first glance, it looks like a goose, but I can tell that it's not after examining it closer.

"What kind of bird is that?" I ask.

"No idea. But its meat looks good," Gale says. "Guess who shot it?"

"Maysi, you shot your first bird?" I ask excitedly.

The smile on her face tells me that she is more than happy. She is ecstatic. She answers my question with a nod. I scoop her into my arms and kiss her head twice.

"I'm so proud of you!" I say. I feel the side of her youth-sized knife pointing into my stomach as I hold her. It reminds me that I never had the chance to get that smaller bow for her.

"What bow did she use?" I ask, confused. Surely she didn't shoot Gale's. Even I can't shoot with his bow, and I have years and years of experience.

"She used Lane's. It's a little big but she could handle it."

I close my eyes and give Maysi another kiss on the forehead. When I look up again, I see Gale watching us with a smile.

"Thank you," I mouth to him over my daughter's shoulder.

In response, he nods. It's this simple gesture that makes my heart flutter with possibilities. Maybe we will have a future. A future after Peeta and his own lover. We can never truly start over in the districts. Everyone knows us. But alone in the woods, it seems possible to have a second chance.

I suddenly have a vision of the future, or maybe an alternate existence. It's not so much of an image as it is a daydream. Gale and I living in this very cabin together, raising Maysi and Lane by ourselves. In the daydream, I am walking out of the cabin with a small child in my arms. I expect to see that the child is Will, which is why I am shocked when I see the stranger child in my arms, who clearly shares the physical genes of both Gale and I. Will is nowhere to be seen.

I shake my head to rid it of the disturbing daydream. I couldn't leave the district without both of my children. I wouldn't. I also wouldn't leave Peeta alone, without me, without his kids. It was cruel of me to go against him with Gale, but I'm not cruel enough to do that.

But as I set Maysi back on the ground and look again, I don't see the same Gale Hawthorne that I saw a few months ago. But I also don't see the Gale Hawthorne that I once knew as a child. I see a man with ambitions that can never be fulfilled because he has a family, and because the woman his heart belongs to is dead, and the woman he loves is married.

Despite that, I can still picture a future with him. But it can never happen.

Not with Peeta involved.

* * *

"Daddy!" Maysi calls as she bursts through the door. "Daddy, come here!"

Peeta runs into the room from the direction of our office. "What's wrong, Mayse?" he asks. His eyes worriedly search every inch of the front hallway, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He sighs, visibly relaxing, when he catches sight of our daughter holding the bird she shot.

"Did you catch that?" he asks, allowing a smile to spread across his lips even though it's obvious that his heart is still pounding with anxiety.

"Yeah! I shot it all by myself!"

"All by yourself?" Peeta plays along with mock disbelief.

Her proud smile turns into a sheepish one. "Well, Gale helped me a little."

Peeta's eyes narrow, something that rarely happens since it is unusual for him to be angry. I feel a genuine rush of fear, not because I'm afraid he'll hurt me, but because I'm afraid that I have hurt him.

"Peeta, let me explain," I begin.

"No, Katniss. There's nothing to explain. You _swore_ to me that he wouldn't be there. I had your word. And then you let him near our daughter?"

"You act like he's a threat to her life."

"Given his past, he could be!"

I freeze. His eyes widen as he realizes the meaning of what he just said.

"I didn't know he would be there," I say.

Peeta scoffs. "Unbelievable," he says under his breath.

Maysi comes over to stand in front of me. I lock my arms tightly around her shoulders, afraid that she will be taken away from me.

"We didn't know he was there," Maysi says. I'm surprised by her confession. She has no idea what she's defending, yet she's standing up for me. "We saw Vick in the woods and then we saw Lane and Gale and ate sandwiches."

"All three of them?" Peeta asks.

"Vick went home," I say and Maysi nods in agreement.

Peeta's attention alternates between the two of us, his tone switching from fire to ice and back again.

His gaze finally comes to rest on me. "You understand that you lied to me?"

"We just told you, we ran into them by surprise. I wouldn't have purposely done that."

"The past few weeks have made me doubt that."

I look away to avoid his eyes.

"You should've left when you saw them," he says.

"Can we talk about this later?" I ask.

My eyes flit down to Maysi, who's listening to our conversation with confusion written clearly across her face, though she doesn't ask any questions. Peeta must understand what I mean because he walks away without giving me an answer.

Once he's gone, I turn my attention to Maysi.

"Let's go get your bird cleaned up," I say.

* * *

 **A/N: I am so sorry for another week-interval update. I'm having problems with my computer but I'm trying to get it fixed so I can update more often again. I'm going to try to start writing longer chapters though. This chapter is the longest I've ever written and I think next chapter is even longer! Hopefully that makes up for me not updating much this month.**

 **So I'm sure that Peeta fans weren't very happy at this chapter. I promise you'll like the next chapter! To Gale fans fans, you also have a surprise next chapter, but I know you loved this one! Let me know what you think and review! You guys probably have a lot of positive things to say ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

We go to the kitchen and begin cleaning the bird. First, we pluck all of its feathers. Then we skin it, and after that, we wash it. Somewhere in the process, Maysi seems to get lost in her thoughts.

"Penny for your thoughts," I say.

Looking up at me, "Why doesn't Daddy like Gale?"

I grab the towel from the counter, wipe the soap from my hands, and turn off the sink faucet. Then I sit on the floor with my legs crossed, which she copies closely.

"What makes you think Daddy hates Gale?" I ask her.

She holds her hands up and shrugs.

"Tell me what's going on up there, cookie," I say. I reach over and tap the side of her head playfully. This causes her to grin.

"He said he doesn't want you with Gale," Maysi says. She seems concerned now. "Gale is nice to me."

"Yeah, Gale is nice to you," I agree.

"And he's nice to Daddy and you."

"Mhmm..."

"So why aren't they friends?"

I pause. I vowed to myself weeks ago that I would never admit to my daughter what I've done. But the timing is so perfect. An what if I never get another opportunity to come clean to her again?

"Because me and Gale did something very bad and Daddy isn't happy."

"What did you do?" Maysi asks curiously.

The innocence in her eyes is almost enough to make me change my mind about telling her. I shouldn't ruin everything for her. But she deserves to know, and better she find out now, from me, than in ten years, from someone else. Worse yet, she might find it out for herself. Ten years from now, she'll hate me for this, regardless of who tells her.

 _Now or never_ , whispers an impatient voice in my head. I suck in a shaky breath.

"Gale and I kissed."

Maysi is without reaction for a full minute. Then she breaks out into a huge smile. "Well I already knew _that_!"

I'm taken aback. No, the phrase "taken aback" doesn't cover even a tenth of it. I'm perplexed, shocked, a little amused, but mostly horrified.

"What do you mean, you already knew?"

"Lane told me."

"How did Lane know?"

Maysi looks distant and dreamy as she replies, "Lane's daddy told him." She draws out her next words, "He said he's _in love_ with you!"

I can't stop the smile that not only spreads across my cheeks, but also bubbles up in the pit of my stomach and reaches my heart. Maysi sees my reaction and laughs.

"What are you laughing at?" I say, snapping out of my daze.

"Are you in love with Gale too?" she asks.

I love Gale. I always have. He was my best friend through every horrible thing I've endured in my life. And he came back for me during a time when I didn't realize how much I needed him. But am I _in_ love with him?

I think back to how I've felt over the past month, during which our relationship has blossomed into something far beyond a pure friendship. I recall the feeling of giddy excitement when he kissed me, the uncontrollable smiles that followed, the joy that filled the dull, gray atmosphere of Panem and transformed into something glorious and healthy.

But here come the reminders of the guilt and anguish that I've felt of late. They seem to knock on my door a lot these days. At the top of every hour, at the start of every minute, with every waking second. I've become skilled at ignoring them.

My conclusion is that, were Peeta not in my life, I would be able to enjoy my relationship with Gale. That yes, I could be very in love with him then. But it is too emotionally heavy to be in love with him now. We're in love with each other in a way that only criminals could be. Infatuated with stolen hearts, addicted to the sensation of them beating together without being caught, living in fear that they will be.

So I am surprised when the answer that escapes my lips is, "No."

"So you love Daddy?" Maysi asks.

Her baffled look makes me wonder why I involved her in the first place. She's too young to understand. I shouldn't be discussing this with her at all, let alone now, when she's only six years old. And what kind of twisted example am I setting for her in the future?

"Yes," I answer. "I'll always love him. Without him, you wouldn't be here. And what would I do without you?"

I poke her in the stomach. She shuts her eyes tightly and giggles. Her hands reach down to cover the place I touched.

"Please don't tickle me!" she begs me.

"I won't," I laugh. "Not now. But maybe later."

"Please don't!" she says despite her continuous giggling.

"We'll see. Now how about we finish cleaning that bird?"

"Okay!"

"You remember how we were doing it before? Just scrubbing it?"

She nods. "I can do it all by myself probably!"

"Okay, so you can do it while I go check on Will?"

"Yep!"

"Thanks, cookie. I'll be right back."

Then I leave the room. I've barely made it into the hallway when I jump back.

"Peeta? What are doing?" I exclaim.

Peeta looks as scared as I am, but in a different way. It's the kind of fear a child would have after being caught sneaking candy before a meal. He clears his throat. "Can we talk in the den? It won't take long."

"I was just going to wake up Will."

"You can do that after," Peeta says.

I cross my arms. "You know he won't go to sleep tonight if we let him nap for too long. Just let me wake him. Then we can talk."

Peeta appears to be torn. It's almost comical. "I'll wait for you in the den."

And so I climb the stairs and quietly walk across the wooden floor, careful not to step on the one creaky board in Will's room. I lean over his crib and smile at his sleeping figure. One day, he won't be this small anymore. One day, he'll be a teenager and Maysi will be living on her own and I'll be left with no children in my house.

 _It doesn't have to be that way_ _._

My eyes widen as the thought crosses my mind. But... maybe it really doesn't have to be that way. I'm only thirty-one years old. I could still have more children. If I wanted to. But do I?

I shake my head. Now isn't the time to be thinking about having another baby. Not when my relationship with my husband is barely holding up and my relationship with Gale is teetering on it's side, too. If I had a baby with Peeta, I'd lose Gale. If I had a baby with Gale, I'd lose Peeta.

I suppose it wouldn't make that much of a difference, though. I'm losing both of them anyway, slowly but surely. A baby would only speed up the process.

I shake my head to clear it. I avert my attention back to the still-sleeping baby before me.

"Time to wake up, Willy," I say as a reach into his crib to pick him up. He's always been light. Because he took Peeta's shortness gene, he doesn't have the height factor that the other boys his age have. And he was premature, so that plays into things.

My toddler yawns as I lift him into my arms. He can barely manage to open his eyes. Peeta must have kept him busy through some of his nap time or else he wouldn't be tired still. He yawns one more time - backing up my theory - and leans his curly, blonde-haired head on my shoulder. He gives a quiet _huff_ of air and sinks into me.

"Hey," I say, moving my neck so I can look in his eyes. "Willy, wake up."

"I'm sleepy, mommy," he murmurs, half asleep.

I begin descending the stairs with Will still balanced on my hip.

"I know, baby. But supper is soon. Your sister shot her first bird and we're going to eat it tonight."

He's more aware now and has gained enough energy to lift his head from my shoulder. "I want to see."

"She's in the kitchen cleaning it now."

Will smiles mischievously. "Take me!" he demands, pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

"Take yourself!" I say, setting him on the floor with one arm and ruffling his hair with my free hand.

"Arrrrrrrb!" Will roars, stamping his feet against the floor with every bounding step he takes toward the kitchen.

I chuckle a little, glad for the opportunity to laugh. From the next room, I hear Peeta cough. A reminder from him to me: _You promised that we'd talk._

I still have one more thing to do before I fulfill that task, though. I stick my head in the kitchen opening.

"Are you still doing okay, Maysi?" I ask.

"Yeah! This is hard work, though."

I try to cover my laughter at the sight of her manhandling the large, seven pound bird. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Come get me if you need help. I'll be in the den with Daddy."

 _Now that that's done, you have to go deal with Peeta,_ says the sarcastic side of my head. I dread going into the room and having to explain myself to him again for the third time in twelve hours. Or is it the fourth time? I've lost count.

I stand in the doorway until Peeta notices me.

"Oh, hey. Sit down," he says.

"You realize this is my house? I don't need an invitation to sit on my furniture."

 _Way to go, Katniss!_ scolds the angel on my shoulder. The sarcasm is evident. Maybe I shouldn't have started the conversation as badly as I did.

Peeta is staring at me with open eyes. He doesn't look offended or angry. "Sorry. I knew that."

"No, I'm sorry I snapped," I say. "Do you care where I sit?"

Peeta shakes his head. Before I can pick a seat, he says, "Hey, let's keep it this way, okay? No yelling."

I wonder if he's playing nice because the kids are across the hall or if he really wants to keep this civil. Keeping up this act reminds me of our first Games and nearly two years of our lives after, when we were forced to pretend we were in love. He really did love me so it wasn't hard for him. I, on the other hand, barely knew him. I couldn't be forced into a casual friendship, let alone a fake relationship-turned-engagement. My trust issues were too big a problem. Eventually, I learned to love him. When he was brought back to 13 from the Capitol, that's when I knew it. But it took a while for my feelings to be real. And I've never been good at pretending.

I sit on the couch where he is already sitting, but at the opposite end. Then I stare at him expectantly until he speaks.

"So," he clears his throat, "You've probably guessed what this is about."

I scratch my chin jokingly. "It's about Gale, but I can't pinpoint exactly what about him."

He doesn't take well to my joke. It's not that he reacts badly, just that he doesn't respond in the same manner. He stares at me expressionlessly for a few seconds. Then he clears his throat a third time. Is he sick?

"It's about this afternoon."

"Hunting?"

"You guessed it."

"Okay. I know you're mad about Gale being there. What else?"

Peeta rolls his eyes. "We've been over this and I guess you haven't heard what I'm saying. Katniss, I'm perfectly fine with you seeing Gale. It's when you bring the rest of our family into it that I have a problem."

My eyebrows furrow from my confusion. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying, as long as you're seeing him, I don't want him near our kids. And I'd like if you could keep it from the rest of the country too."

"So you're okay with me seeing him?"

Peeta inhales shakily. "No, I'm not okay with it. Not really. But I'm trying to be. He makes you happy. That's all I want for you."

"Wait," I say. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying to make sense of everything. "But you saw the magazines. You saw the pictures. And you're still okay with it?"

"Yes."

"Peeta, we kissed."

"Yeah. I saw that one, too."

I rise from the couch, compelled by my own feelings of outrage. "How are you okay with this? Don't you realize what this is?" My voice comes out louder than I intended.

He sinks back into the cushion behind him. He tilts his head backwards and runs a hand through his hair. It takes him a couple of minutes to compose himself. "Yes, Katniss, I know what it is," he answers. "But I also know what it's not. Look, I can't force you to stay in a relationship if you don't want to. If you think you love someone else, whether you really do or not, is it my job to confine you to our house and not let you out of my sight?" A rhetorical question. "No, my job is to let you see him, because if you really love me then you'll come back."

I'm too busy trying to wrap my head around his words to respond.

"And I have a theory," he rambles. "I think maybe I'm not . . . satisfying enough . . . to some part of you. It might be that I don't hunt with you. Or that I wasn't part of your childhood and he was. Something might have happened between the two of you before the reaping. And who knows what happened while I was in the Capitol. . . ."

He shudders at that last memory. We try not to talk about the time he spent in the Capitol. But there was one time . . . It was a week after our wedding. He woke up from a nightmare and I couldn't keep myself from asking.

"I have dreams like that a lot," he had told me.

"Like what?" I urged him to continue.

"Nightmares. About the Capitol."

"The Games? I still have them, too," I said.

He shook his head. "No, about them hijacking me."

I scooted closer to him. He laid on his side and I laid on mine, facing each other. I stroked the side of his face twice. He reached up to hold my hand where it was.

"I'll tell you one day," he had promised.

But he never did.

I often wonder what it must have been like. Gale tried to tell me, a few days after they came back from rescuing Peeta. I had wondered aloud about how horrible it must have been there for Peeta to have been so affected strongly. Gale told me a few of the things he saw when he was there. Hand cuffs attached to the bars of a prison cell and a metal chain that kept the prisoner chained to the wall. A glass tube that closed in around him for hours on end as punishment if he spoke out against the Capitol or tipped the rebels off in any way. He wouldn't tell me anything else, though.

I'm brought back to the present when Peeta coughs several times.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.

"Yeah. I think I caught a cold. I'm fine." He waits before changing the subject back. "So what actually happened?"

"When?"

"While I was gone. In the Capitol," he says, cringing. "You and Gale."

"Oh," I say.

I have to take a moment to think. What does he want to me to tell him? How many times I kissed Gale? What we did? Does he think we were involved in some sort of scandal? Clearly, his memory of 13 is foggy. You weren't allowed in another person's room unless given permission from someone of higher authority. That being said, I had pretty high authority, so I did as I pleased most of the time. But the idea of Gale and I spending nights together would never have been allowed. And I wouldn't have done it, anyway. I don't think so, at least.

"What do you want to know?"

"Did you ever kiss him?" Peeta asks.

"Uh... yeah," I answer uncomfortably. "I guess you don't remember much about Thirteen, do you?"

Maybe he doesn't remember, but one memory in particular sticks out in my mind now. I remember how angry I was when Peeta called me out at a meal for sitting next to Gale. He asked me if Gale was a good kisser. I said I guessed he was. I remember his exact words. " _You're a real piece of work, aren't you?"_

"No," Peeta says. "Those memories are unclear."

"Nothing really happened. We kissed a few times but they didn't mean anything. They were mostly just an escape from what was happening."

Peeta must understand, or at least is trying to, because his eyes soften. "Oh."

We are both quiet now. Both of us are remembering our own sides of the same story.

"Was there anything before that?" he asks suddenly. It takes me by surprise.

"Any kissing?" I laugh to myself and look down when I feel a blush rising to my cheeks. "Yeah. A few times. But like I said, I didn't feel anything. I didn't know what we were and what we weren't. And my feelings for you didn't make any sense then, either."

"No, I meant before that," he says. "Before you met me. Before the Games."

There was one time when I kissed him. It only happened once though. I'm not even sure he remembers it. But I can recall it with ease.

 _It was late October and there was a cool breeze. The leaves were sifting from the trees. We were sitting in our spot on the hill overlooking the valley, just as we always did, when we heard them. At first it sounded like screams. I had jumped to my feet. At fourteen years old, everything scared me. It had only been two years since my father had died. My mother was still in what we now know was a deep depression. I was caring for my little ten-year-old sister with all the strength I had. My father wasn't there to protect us anymore, so I jumped at every sound. So one can imagine why this screaming set me off._

 _I grabbed my bow from beside me and jumped to my feet. Within seconds, an arrow was fixed at the string and was ready to be shot._

 _Two people suddenly stumbled out of a clump of tall blackberry bushes. They were kids, around our age. I recognized them from school. The girl was in Gale's grade and the boy was the grade above her. I didn't know their names._

 _The girl shrieked as the boy grabbed her waist and corner her, trapping her between himself and the tree that her back was against. He took a few steps toward her and kissed her._

 _The girl put her hands firmly on his chest and pushed him off of her. I, being utterly paranoid and sheltered from the world of flirtation and romance, didn't notice her smiling all the while. I only noticed as they continued to seemingly fight for dominance. Who kissed who, whose hands went where._

 _Eventually, his hand crept down too far for her liking. She made a yelping noise and slapped his hand away._

 _"Dominic!" she exclaimed._

 _That was the boy's name. Dominic._

 _He put his hand back where he had it. Only this time, his free hand went straight to her throat. He wrapped his fingers tightly around her neck as she struggled to get free. Then he leaned forward and kissed her again._

 _I turned to Gale, my eyes wide with fear. "Get down!" I whispered._

 _He gave me a questioning look, so I took his hand and attempted to pull him down behind the boulder he was sitting on. After a few unsuccessful tugs, I accepted that he wouldn't budge._

 _"Gale, he's hurting her. Get down!" I whispered urgently._

 _He didn't move, just stared at me for a few seconds. Then he broke out into guffaws that echoed throughout the forest._

 _"What are you doing?" I cried. "What if they hear you!"_

 _"What does that matter?" Gale took deep breaths to calm his laughter. "Besides, we're too far away for them to hear me."_

 _"He was hurting her! What if he comes over here once he's finished with her?"_

 _Gale put a hand on my knee. "Catnip, he isn't hurting her. They're making out."_

 _My eyebrow furrowed at the phrase. I'd heard it before. The boys at school talked about it a lot. I think it had to do with kissing but evidently it involved more than just that._

 _"Why were his fingers around her neck?" I asked, crossing my arms. That boy was going to hurt that girl, I was sure of it._

 _Gale laughed again. "He was holding her in place."_

 _I looked back at them. Gale was right, the boy didn't have the girl in a chokehold as I had originally thought._

 _"But she didn't want him touching her! She slapped his hand away," I argued._

 _"That's what you do sometimes. If you don't like someone touching you somewhere then you tell them."_

 _"But he put his hand back to the same spot."_

 _"I know. He was messing with her."_

 _Gale looked up at where the boy and girl were still standing, oblivious to us. Then, to my horror, he stood up and waved obnoxiously in their direction._

 _"Vidia! Dominic! Woohoo!" he shouted._

 _Their heads snapped in our direction simultaneously. The look on their faces was enough to tell me that they were both mortified._

 _"Hey, Vidia!" Gale yelled again. He started walking toward her. But he must have suddenly remembered me, because he turned and motioned for me to follow him._

 _Once we reached the couple, I saw how attractive both of them were. The boy wasn't my type but he certainly looked to be the girl's. Dominic had dark, almost black hair and brown eyes. He was the district gardener's son, so his tanned skin must've been from hours outside planting with his father. I, for one, thought having a district gardener was unnecessary and silly. That hardly counted as a career._

 _Anyway, the girl had hair the color of rich soil, which was ironic if you consider who she was kissing. She was healthy-looking, as was the boy. Both of them looked well-fed. I bet there hadn't been a day in their lives when they'd gone to sleep without supper._

 _"Hey, Gale," the girl said._

 _"You know him?" Dominic asked her._

 _"Yeah, we know each other," Gale answered for her. "Vidia, you didn't tell me you had a new playmate."_

 _The girl, Vidia, narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms. "I didn't see a reason to."_

 _"Kind of like you didn't see a reason to let your old guy know that you had a boyfriend?" Gale raised his eyebrows and looked Dominic over from head to toe, as if seeing him for the first time. "Oh, is this him?"_

 _"This is Dominic. He's not the same boy," Vidia said through clenched teeth._

 _"I'm going to let you in on a secret, Vidia," Gale said, ignoring her last comment. He leaned toward her and cupped his hand around his mouth. Then, just loud enough so that Dominic and I could hear too, he whispered, "Taking your new boyfriend to the place your old boyfriend took you isn't the smartest idea."_

 _Vidia's hands tightened into fists at her sides. She pushed Gale away from her angrily. "Oh? And what about her?" she said, pointing a finger at me. "You're taking your new girlfriend to the place you took me."_

 _Gale laughed loudly, throwing his head back. "Katniss isn't my girlfriend, she's my friend. This was our place for years before I even knew your name."_

 _Vidia didn't have anything to say in response. She just stared at Gale with her mouth gaping open. Then she took Dominic's hand and stomped away without another word._

 _Once she was out of earshot, I turned to face Gale. "You dated her?" I asked disapprovingly._

 _"Yeah, for, like, two errjs."_

 _I shook my head. "You can do better."_

 _Gale smirked. "I'm sorry I didn't ask for your approval first, Catnip."_

 _"I'll let it slide this one time," I replied evenly._

 _"Hey, I can make it up to you. I'll give you_ _a free bit of my personal expertise_ _," he said. The last few words were spoken with added flair; he said them to mock Effie Trinket. Every year, they televise an interview of her at the train station after the reaping. And every year, she says the same line: 'They'll do just fine in the arena. I'm sure of it. All they need is a bit of my personal expertise. Heavens knows their mentor won't have any to spare.'_

 _"What kind of expertise were you thinking about?" I asked._

 _"Well, your knowledge on the art of flirtation is lacking," he joked. He reached up to brush back a strand of hair that has fallen out of my braid._

 _The smile disappeared from my lips. I was expecting to learn a thing or two from the king of snares himself, but it was evident then that he had other plans. "I_ _don't talk to boys," I mumbled._

 _"One day you will. You'll want to get married someday."_

 _"I'm never getting married."_

 _He raised his eyebrows at this news. We'd never talked about love and marriage before. "Why not?"_

 _"Because then I might have kids. I never want to have kids."_

 _Gale looked deep into my eyes, and in that moment I felt as if he could see me for who I really was - not just the girl he meets in the woods every day, whose soul purpose is to feed her family. That's the girl he had come to know in the past two years. Now it seemed as if he saw someone else._

 _"What if you found a boy that you really loved?" Gale asked._

 _"There's no one I love," I answered. "No one except Prim."_

 _Gale shook his head. "That's different. That's family. I'm talking about real love. Like..." He looks around for an example. "Like this."_

 _Without warning, his lips are being pressed against mine. Then he began the real kissing, the kind that makes you weak in the knees. I couldn't breath, I couldn't speak, I couldn't move, so I stood stiff and straight and remained perfectly still._

 _When he broke contact, he looked at me expectantly. To his annoyance, I remained silent. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "Well?"_

 _"What?" I said, crossing my arms. I realized that Gale was standing the same way, so I quickly uncrossed them and stood up straighter._

 _"Did you feel anything?" he pressed._

 _"Was I supposed to?"_

 _Gale let out an irritated breath and threw his hand in the air. "I sincerely hope that someday you get over whatever aversion you have to men. It's really annoying."_

 _"Why do you care?" I asked. "You don't like me, so what does it matter?"_

 _"Forget it," he said._

 _That was the last time I saw him that day._

For years, I believed that me and Gale's relationship was strictly platonic. That neither of us had feelings for each other. But looking back, how had I missed it? He clearly had feelings for me, whether he was fully aware of them or not.

I debate whether to share this with Peeta. Sharing this story from nearly two decades ago, which makes it clear that Gale had feelings for me even then, might increase my chances of Peeta forgiving me. I can't see anything wrong with telling him, so I do. And when I'm finished, I take a long breath while gauging Peeta's reaction.

"That's quite a story," Peeta says. "But you've always told me that you were only friends up until the Games."

"I thought we were," I admit. "I guess not. Or at least, he didn't think of it that way. I've told you my story now. Tell me yours."

Peeta laughs nervously. His teeth are clenched when he smiles and his hair sticks to his forehead messily. He looks like the boy with the bread again. And now more than ever, I want him to give me a piece of his life that he's never given to anyone else. I want him to tell me about life before the Games and what it was like to be the baker's son.

"What do you want to know?" he asks.

"Did you ever have girlfriends?"

"None of them would've lived up to you if I did," he answers.

"You never were kissed before me?" I ask.

He starts to shake his head, then pauses. "Well, there was this one girl."

"Do I know her?"

"Yeah. Delly Cartwright," he says.

"She kissed you?" I ask disbelievingly.

"Well, not exactly. It really didn't count as a kiss. When we were seven, she kissed me before she went to visit her grandma for a week on the other side of town. It lasted for less than a second and it was on the cheek."

Both of us laugh. Warmth and joy course through my veins. We're getting along. Laughing, even. But it dies down too soon, and then we're silent. I glance through the window across the room absently and notice that it's almost dark outside. Now, Peeta and I are sitting in a darkened room with only a candle on the mantle to keep light.

I turn my attention back to him. "So it was really me all along?"

"Since we were five. I still remember the sound of your voice in that assembly."

I laugh. "I wish you'd forget about that."

He looks me dead in the eyes. There is a warm light to his own eyes; the flame from the two candles on the mantle is reflected on the bright blue that I know so well. "I don't," he says, so quietly that I can barely hear him.

"I know," I say, shifting my gaze to the floor. A tear slips down my cheek, unannounced. It's closely followed by another, and several more after that. I try to blink them away, but they continue to come.

Peeta looks over at me. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it when he sees my wet cheeks and swollen eyes. "Are you okay?"

I try to answer but I choke on my words, transforming them into a single sob. Peeta looks like he's trying to find something to say, but is coming up without results. He finally gives up on talking and opens his arms for me.

I stand and walk over to his side of the couch. He straightens his legs across the empty space beside him and I lay next to him. His chin rests on the top of my head, which sits securely against his chest. His arms are wrapped around me. One of his hands rubs my back soothingly and the other wipes the tears from my cheeks.

"Hey," he says, his voice comforting me in a way that no one else's can. "What's wrong?"

"I hate owing people," I grumble through hiccup-sobs.

"You don't owe anybody, Katniss," he says.

"I owe you," I say, looking up. "You're willing to let me experiment with another man just so I can be happy. I don't know you can find it in you to love someone that much." I shake my head in despair. "I just don't have that much love to give."

He surprises me by leaning down and kissing the top of my head. His lips linger there for a moment, then he leans back. "You don't have to return it. I don't expect you to."

Here comes the guilt again. "Then how am I supposed to-"

"I don't need you to love me back, Katniss."

"That's not fair," I say, sitting up. I twist backwards to face at him. "You can't live like this."

"You can't either."

And I realize that he's right, but only partially. I can't live the way I'm living. I can't play catch with two people, neither of them having any clue as to who will get the ball next. But Peeta also can't continue his way. He'll hurt for the rest of his life whether I choose him or Gale. Even if I choose Peeta, he will always suffer because I'll never feel as strongly for him as he does for me.

I feel the moisture building up in my eyes again. I lean back into Peeta so he won't have see me cry. "After all the things I've done to you, you still don't hate me. Why?"

"That's unrequited love. There's something almost addictive about it. It's like you could hurt me in any way you wanted, but I would still love you in the morning. You love that person more than you love yourself. It's unhealthy. You keep coming back, you keep letting them in. Even when they don't deserve it."

My hands grip his shirt as I cry. _Pull yourself together, Katniss_ _._ I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. "Why do you do this to yourself?" I ask him.

"It's not something I can control. I've tried, trust me. Like I said, it's addictive."

I tilt my head up to look at him. We hold each other's gazes, both of us housing broken creatures behind the disguise that is our eyes. My focus is taken away from his eyes and down to his lips, which suddenly look like a good place to lose myself.

Unlike most of our kisses, neither of us initiates it. We close in to each other until there is no space for air. Only then do we allow our lips to touch.

I kiss him to forget about what's happening between us, but it somehow makes me sadder. His kisses feel lost. Like trying to walk when your leg is asleep. Unaware, unsure, numb.

I am the first to break. "Peeta?"

"What is it?"

I lean back against him and hold tightly to his hand, which lays on his chest in front of me. "I love you."

I don't look up to see his reaction, but I think I hear a smile in his voice when he replies, "I love you too, Katniss."

A few minutes of silence go by as I stare at our intertwined fingers, highlighted by the shadows of the flames dancing across them. My eyes grow heavier with each second. The last thing I say before falling asleep in his arms is, "Stay with me."

And the last word I hear is his short, whispered response. "Always."

* * *

 **A/N: I know the Gale fans are mad at about this chapter, but you guys got a Gale/Katniss flashback, so I didn't forget about you completely! Peeta/Katniss fans, don't get used to this. But don't** _ **not**_ **get used to it either. Basically just hang in until the end of the story to see what I have to offer. I'm sure you'll love it no matter what pairing you like. I don't want to say this is primarily Gale/Katniss because it's not, but I do plan on giving Gale a happy ending.**

 **By the way, I've had several reviewers lately that are telling me to reread the books because Gale designed bombs to purposely hurt people. Look, I've heard that whether or not Gale ACTUALLY killed Prim is open to personal interpretation. It's been a while since I read the books, but I read them thoroughly. A few minutes ago, I did some research on Mockingjay to see the truth. What I came up with was that yes, Gale designed the bombs that killed Prim in Mockingjay, but that it is made clear that he DID NOT choose when or where to drop them. That was up to Beetee. It doesn't matter that much in the long run because this is my story and I'll go with whatever storyline I want to, but I just thought I'd prove a point.**

 **As always, please remember to review and let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

I must have fallen asleep in Peeta's arms on the couch. I sit up and stretch my arms, then listen. Peeta is no longer on the couch with me. From the next room comes the smell of cooking meat. He must have started supper already. I peek across the room at the clock on the wall. It's nearly 8:00. So I wander into the kitchen, where Peeta is standing before the oven. He is alone.

"Have the kids already eaten?"

Peeta isn't expecting me and jumps when he hears my voice. "You scared me," he says. "No, I just woke up fifteen minutes ago. They're upstairs playing."

"Oh," I reply.

I silently watch him walk in circles around the kitchen, pulling spices and cooking utensils from drawers and wiping his hands on a dishrag every few minutes. As I watch, I realize that I haven't noticed the many physical changes Peeta has gone through in the past years. His curly, blonde hair is thinning, but not drastically. The outside corners of his blue eyes have small, shallow wrinkles from years of squinting into oven fires. His forehead has a few similar wrinkles. But he's still young and these marks of age are not nearly as defined as those of other people our age. He has put on a few pounds since we got married, just as most people do. His prosthetic leg has continued working well. The burns he received from the fire several months ago were quickly treated by advanced surgery methods that weren't around when we were younger - otherwise, the burn scar that is still visible on my left leg from my first Games would barely be noticeable.

Peeta catches me staring at him and smiles. "Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Sure bet," I laugh. Then my smile flattens into a straight line. "Peeta?"

"Yeah?"

"What happens from here?"

He wipes his hands on the dish towel again and looks at me solemnly. "What do you mean?"

"What do we do in a few years when Maysi is a teenager? And a few years later when she's living on her own and Will is a teenager? What happens to us?"

Peeta laughs. "Isn't it a little early to be worrying about an empty nest?"

"That's not what I meant," I say quietly.

"Oh," he says in an equally low tone. "I don't know."

"They're the only ones holding us together right now."

"I know," Peeta replies. "I'd rather wait until later to think about this."

"What if there isn't a 'later,' though?"

"There will be," he insists. "And when it comes, we'll discuss it."

I look down and try to think of another topic for us to discuss. He turns and walks around the counter again to continue cooking before I can say anything further. He puts the rolls in the oven, then faces me again.

"That was a good act you put up, by the way."

"When?"

"A few hours ago. On the couch. Clearly whatever love you were talking about is gone now."

"What made you think that?" I ask, startled.

"You're asking me if our children moving out will finish off our marriage. What else could that possibly mean?"

"No, Peeta, that's not what I meant. I was wondering what we're going to do without them. By then, we'll have lived more than twenty years with children. Don't you worry that we'll forget what it was like before we had them around?"

Peeta looks embarrassed at his assumption being wrong. "We were married for five years before Maysi was born. We have more experience without kids than most people do."

"But we've also been through more than those other people," I state.

We fall into a silence that can only be described as painfully uncomfortable.

"Then I guess what happens will happen," Peeta says. Then he begins walking toward the back door.

"Where are you going?"

"To get some air. I won't be long. Could you take out the rolls in two minutes?"

He doesn't wait for me to answer.

* * *

It isn't long before supper is ready. All four of us are seated around the table, eating Maysi's bird and Peeta's rolls. The kids are discussing a game they both played at school while Peeta and I waste away in the silence that has become a standard role of all family meals.

"Mommy, I want dessert," Will announces after finishing his meal.

"We don't have any dessert," I reply.

"Yeah, we do," Peeta says. He slides his chair back and goes to the oven, where he has stuck a pie to cook. "Wait for just a few more minutes and the pie will be ready," he tells Will.

"What kind?" Maysi asks.

"Blackberry," Peeta answers. It would be hard for me to miss the pointed look he shoots me from the corners of his eyes. He and I both know that there's only one place you can find blackberries in District 12, and that's the woods. And I certainly haven't been harvesting any. But the thought of Peeta going into the woods by himself to get blackberries is laughable.

"Where did you get blackberries?" I ask.

"I know someone who sells them."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Who?"

Peeta waves his free hand carelessly while reaching in the oven to pull out the pie. "You wouldn't know her."

I let go of the topic with the intention of bringing it up again later. While I am caught in my own thoughts, Peeta has pulled a knife from the silverware drawer and is cutting slices of pie.

"Katniss, do you want any?" he asks, but I don't hear him. "Katniss?"

"Huh?" I ask.

"Do you want any pie?" he asks again.

"Uh, sure," I say. "Thanks."

Our dessert is accompanied by small conversation. What the kids did in school today, our plans for the weekend, how good the food was tonight. When I'm done with my slice of pie, I push my chair under the table and take the plate to the sink. I take out a sponge to begin cleaning my plate, but Peeta catches me.

"I'll do the dishes tonight," he says.

"No, I'm already up here. It's no problem."

"Just let me do it, Katniss," Peeta insists.

"Okay," I say, unsure of why he wants to wash the dishes so badly. "Then do you mind if I take a walk?"

"No, just don't..." he trails off awkwardly. But I know what he means to say.

"I won't," I tell him.

Then I remove my boots from the shoe rack next to the back door. I slide them on along witha large coat that is a few sizes too big for me and probably isn't mine.

When I reach the sidewalk in front of our house, I begin to rethink my decision to be out here. It must be below freezing temperature and there are thin clouds of fog hanging around. I have to squint to see ten feet in front of me. In my blindness, I miss something that normally would have tipped me off as abnormal and suspicious: a man's shadow beside a bush in front of my house.

I have made it all the way out to the main road before I catch the eerie feeling that somone is following me. I discreetly glance over my shoulder and then pretend to brush lint from it so as not to show my suspicion. Sure enough, there is a large, hooded figure trailing not far behind me.

I take a few deep breaths. Maybe he's going somewhere else and just happens to be out at the same time as me. I round a few corners to be sure, but the figure continues behind me. If I stay, I run the risk of being abducted or killed. If I run, then I have a chance at getting away, or at least making it to the more populated area of town.

I take a few deep breaths to ready myself, then bolt into a run. But my stamina isn't as high as it once was and after a few blocks, I feel myself beginning to fade. I can't go much farther. Nonetheless, I push myself forward, knowing that I could be dead by morning if I gave up now. In the distance, I can see the lit-up sign of the butcher's shop.

 _You can make it_ , I tell myself. _Don't give up on yourself now._

But before long, I am feeling too tired to continue. I've been running for at least five blocks now and my heart is racing, it's beat faltering at an unhealthy rate with each step I take. I begin to slow my pace only to find that my stalker is back. I try to begin running again, faster, as fast as I can, but it's no good; his feet are practically nipping at my heels.

When he is just close enough, he pushes me onto the concrete. My elbows fly out to catch my fall. My left elbow makes a snapping sound and I release a pained yell. I roll onto my side and clutch my elbow tightly. My attacker leans forward and pulls me up by the other arm, then blindfolds me so that all I can see is black. It is so dark that I barely notice when I pass out.

* * *

When I return to consciousness, I am in an abandoned house in the Seam. Blank walls, only a few pieces of leftover, scraggly furniture that the house's old inhabitants must have chosen to leave behind. I am lying on the floor with my hands tied together with a long rope. I hear footsteps and contemplate closing my eyes and pretending to still be asleep, but the feet arrive in the same room as me before I can react.

"Glad to see you awake, Soldier," the man says.

He reaches behind his head and at first, I think he is going to hit me, but then I notice that he has pulled the hood of his jacket away from his face. His black hair has been buzzed off. He has dark skin. His eyes are dark, too - an intimidating shade of black.

"Soldier?" I say, because it's the only question that comes to mind.

"Yes. Soldier Everdeen, correct?"

"No. I'm Katniss Mellark now. I got married eleven-"

"That doesn't matter, Soldier Everdeen," he says dismissively. "Time is of the essence. We don't have much time before you have to return home."

The realization sinks in that this man has been watching us for a while if he knows what time I usually am home after my evening walks.

"What do you want?" I ask him.

He stares at me for a moment, his cold eyes daring me to break eye contact. When I don't cave in to his method of intimidation - probably the first of many that he has in store - he grabs a bag from the corner of the room.

"Have a seat, Soldier Everdeen."

I pull a creaky, wooden chair from under a table. My eyes dart over to him. "Mellark," I correct.

He gives me a pointed look. "I've a feeling that won't be the case for much longer."

I have to look away from him from shame. Clearly he's been keeping up with the news. Or maybe not, as I see him dump the contents of his bag onto the table between us. Tiny computer thumbdrives and data chips spill from it.

I pick one up and examine it. "What are these?"

"Those are every photo and video of you and Hawthorne that has been taken in the past fifteen years. Do what you want with them, but I suggest taking measures to ensure they don't get back into the hands of the Capitol. This is the difference between your current life and your potential life of blackmail."

At first, I'm speechless. "Why did you do this?"

The man leans forward, his palms pressing into the surface of the wooden table. "There are things you don't understand, Mrs. Everdeen, that could ruin not just you, but everyone. Because we've all done something to protect you, or you've done something to protect us."

"Who is 'us'?" I ask.

"That's more than you need to know. But it won't be long before you do." He takes a few steps back from the table. "Do whatever you feel is necessary to keep those from the hands of traitors. Some of them are amongst us at this moment."

"Are there others here?"

"No. But someone is always watching."

He starts toward the back door of the old house we're in. I can't let him leave without asking him one question, though. "Can you tell me your name?" I ask.

He pauses, deciding whether it's okay to tell me. "Damascus," he finally answers. And then he's gone, leaving me in the abandoned house on my own.

I sit in the darkness, staring at the data chips. What information do they hold? I have no way of knowing because I don't own a computer. Not many people in Districf 12 do. Computers are mostly used by government officials, upper class business workers, and reporters. Workplaces often are seen with a few computers atop wooden desks.

It takes a good amount of time for me to decide what to do with the chips. If I keep them, I run the risk of someone else stealing them. If I throw them in the trash, someone might see me and retrieve them once I'm gone. But if I burn them... A grin spreads across my face. Setting fire to the data chips would ensure that no one ever saw whatever secrets they held.

On my way home, I realize that I can't go back to Peeta and the kids just yet. I have no clue what time it is. Surely Peeta will understand if I come back late. So I make my way to the Victors Village, where Haymitch resides in the same house he's lived in for nearly forty years.

I climb the stairs of Haymitch's small front porch and rap my knuckles against the door three times. On the opposite side of the door, I hear something made of glass shattering on the floor, which is followed by a string of muffled obscenities. The slow and shuffled footsteps of drunken Haymitch come closer to the door. Seconds later, he's standing before me with a liquor bottle in hand.

"Well, would you look who it is. I knew I recognized that knock," he says. I was mistaken before. He is not drunk yet, but he is on the path to being so. "You need something?"

"Yeah. To talk," I reply.

He leans against the door frame and takes a long sip from the bottle. "I'm listening."

"Can we go inside?"

"With all the privacy this place has, I don't think it makes much difference," Haymitch mutters.

He steps aside to let me past him. Inside his home is a mess of newspaper clippings, liquor bottles, dirty dishes, and dirty laundry.

"I guess this means you haven't seen Hazelle in a while," I comment.

"That would be correct."

"Did you fire her?"

"Not exactly. After a month of me telling her I didn't need her, I stopped calling and she stopped coming."

"So you fired her?"

"Not exactly," Haymitch says again. "So why are you here?"

I hand him the bag of data chips. "This is every picture and video taken of Gale and I, dating back to before the Games."

Haymitch paws through the bag curiously. Something he sees at the bottom of the pile rubs him the wrong way. "Where did you get these?" he asks worriedly.

"A man named Damascus."

"Where did you meet him?"

"I didn't meet him. He kidnapped me and I passed out. When I woke up, I was in a house in the Seam and he was telling me about the data chips and that I needed to keep them from the Capitol. He said that a lot of people could get in trouble with the content of the chips."

Haymitch sets down his drink and pulls one of the larger data chips from the bag. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Yeah, it's a data chip."

"No. This isn't an ordinary data chip," he says. He exits the room. When he returns, he's holding a small computer. I didn't know he owned one. He inserts the data chip into the computer, clicks a few keys, then turns the screen so it faces me. "This is a tracker."

My eyes widen. "So that man was setting me up?"

"No. It's been deactivated. I can't tell who it was used for..." Haymitch trails off and turns the computer back towards him. He clicks the touch screen a few times, then types something on the keypad.

"What are you doing?"

"Hold on." He types something else, then falls silent. His eyes move from side to side. He must be reading something. "Where were you on Wednesday morning?"

"At home with the kids and then in the woods with Gale, why?"

"And the day before that?"

"Doing the same thing, probably. Why?"

He ignores my question again. "Let me reword that. When is the last time you were alone?"

I have to think before I answer. "Tonight. I took a walk outside after dinner."

"Before tonight. The tracker was deactivated this morning, anything after that doesn't matter."

'I don't know, Haymitch. Why do you need to know?"

"Because I'm trying to figure out whose tracker this is and your lack of alone time isn't helping."

"Why does it matter when I was alone the last time?"

"Because if you were with him, then I can't tell if it's yours or his." He types something else into the computer. "Here we go. Were you alone last night?"

I try to think back to last night. Tiredness hits me suddenly when I realize how terribly long this day has been and how little I remember from yesterday. Just today, Gale woke me up in the wee hours of the morning to take me to the woods. How was that less than twenty-four hours ago?

"Like I told you, I haven't been alone in a long time, Haymitch."

I watch him spend four minutes clicking through the pages of tracker history. At that point, his eyes grow wide and his dominant hand begins shaking.

"What is it?" I ask, my throat closing with worry.

Haymitch grabs the liquor bottle beside him and takes a long draw from it, followed by another one that leaves the bottle empty. He stands, swaying a little from the effects of the alcohol, and snatches a new bottle from his kitchen counter. He opens the bottle and takes yet another long draw.

I stand up, seize the bottle from his hold, and glower dangeorusly at him. "Tell me what's going on," I demand.

He looks everywhere other than at me when he answers, "It's the tracker."

"What about it?" I say, my voice is still harsh from irritation.

"It's not yours or your friend's. It's Maysilee's."

* * *

 **A/N: It's been a long day full of ups and downs for Katniss, hasn't it? We'll see what happens next in chapter 17! I can't believe we're so far into the story now. In a few more chapters, we'll be moving into Part 3 of this story, which is where the real action begins.**

 **It seems that a lot of you are confused by my Author's Note last chapter. When I said that it could be a Gale/Katniss or a Peeta/Katniss ending, I didn't mean that this wasn't a Galeniss story. It definitely is and it will be endgame. I'm just not sure whether the sequel to this story (which is definitely happening, by the way) will still be focused on Gale and Katniss working on their relationship after the events of this story (which are going to get a little crazy) or if they're going to end up together at the end of this one. You guys can help me decide by telling me what you think in your reviews! And don't forget to let me know what you thought of this chapter!** **Thank you so much for your support of this story, as always :)**


	17. Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

"You're wrong," I say. "It can't be."

"It is. Look."

I walk around the table to see the tracker history for myself. Everything is written in code it seems. Letters and numbers which seem to be put together at random are written all across the top portion of the screen. The rest of the screen is dedicated to different dates and times of day, with "and _x_ others" written beside them to indicate if anyone else was present at that time.

"What does all this mean? How do you tell the location?"

Haymitch sighs and stands in front of the computer, moving me out of his way. "Luckily for you, I've had more than enough trackers to read in my lifetime. Otherwise, you'd be screwed." He clicks the date at the top of the screen and a drop down menu appears. "You choose the date you want and click it. Then all the times are listed for that day. Beside the time is how many people you were with and beside that is a code. The code is the district, area code, and the address, but only the first three letters of each street. Do you get that?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"Good. So take this," he points to a time and location. "On Thursday morning, you were hunting with Gale."

"The woods doesn't have an address," I say.

"Good thinking, Katniss!" he says, giving me a sarcastic smile. "You cracked the code!"

I glare at him. "I meant, how can you tell if there's no address?"

Haymitch settles back into seriousness. "The woods doesn't have an address, but everything over that fence is its own area code. It's 'DIS12-SECT001.'"

"So what about a real address?" I ask.

Haymitch clicks the drop down menu again and selects a date from last week. "So on this day at 6:30 p.m., you were at DIS12-SECT003-23PIN. Can you tell where that is?"

I stare at the code for a moment.

Panem's travel laws were one of the first things that President Paylor changed when she was elected thirteen years ago. She made it so that everyone can travel among the districts as they please, as long as they can pay train fare. There are two sets of train tracks now. One of them goes from District 1 to District 13, with thirteen stops at each district. The lther goes from the Capitol to District 13. They're separated because the Capitol needed a way to get to the districts quickly, but without the danger of two trains on the same tracks at once. Anyway, along with that law change came a new idea of adding Sections to each district. The idea took a year to be approved, but it finally made it through the government and into action.

The purpose behind the Sections is to make travel easier within the districts. Each district has at least eight Sections, depending on the size of the district. The exception to the rule is District 13, which is impossible to section off because they're underground. Paylor tried to convince them to move back above ground but they refused, and Paylor couldn't force them because then she would have had to provide funding to rebuild their district from the when it was destroyed in the war before last, and our government was too frail for that now.

Anyway, we have ten Sections in Twelve. The first one is the woods. Section 2 is the part of the Seam that I grew up in and Section 3 is the part that Gale lived in, which also includes the mines. The three-way crossroads just past the woods is what separates Section 2 and Section 3. From either Section, you can turn at the crossroads and be on your way into town. That direction is Section 4, where the nicer lower-class homes are. At a four-way intersection about halfway into Section 4, you can turn left to go into Section 5. There is another way to reach it, too. The fence separating the woods from the district turns and corners off once you reach the train station, which is at the far end of the district. Past the train station is the tourist portion of town. This whole area forms Section 5. Anyway, continuing to go straight at the intersection in Section 4 or heading straight through Section 5 will lead you into Section 6, which is District 12's schools, downtown, and town square. There is a side road from the main road downtown that leads into the middle to upper class homes. The Victors Village itself makes up Section 9 and the middle and upper class homes make up Section 10. From the town square, you can veer off to the left, which leads to Sections 7 and 8. Section 7 is the Hob, which was rebuilt shortly after I moved back. Section 8 is the loading docks for the river that connects District 12 to District 11. The security there is extremely high and hardly anyone is allowed there.

The code on Haymitch's computer screen is DIS12-SECT003-28PIN. Gale lives in Section 3 at 28 Pine Road.

"That's Gale's house," I say. "Last Saturday. We must have been at Hazelle's for dinner."

"You're right. Now tell me where this is." He selects the day before that, a Friday. "Now tell me, where is DIS12-SECT006-49ACA?"

"That's the school, right?"

"Yeah. Were you there at 11:30 last Friday morning?"

I gasp involuntarily, realizing he was right. This is Maysi's tracker. "How can you be sure it's not Will?" I stammer.

"Because he wasn't in the woods this morning."

"I thought it was deactivated this morning," I say.

"It was, but not before tracking you and Maysilee there," Haymitch says.

Both of us stare at the screen, trying to comprehend its purpose. Why was my daughter being tracked? After a long silence, I grab another unopened bottle of liquor from the cabinet beside the sink. I open it and take a swig from it, wincing as the alcohol burns down my throat and courses through my veins.

"What do I do?" I ask him.

Haymitch takes the bottle from my hand and puts it on the table. "Listen to me, Katniss. You're not he only one that's affected by what's on these chips. You need to get rid of them. Destroy them. You can even burn them if you have to. But make sure that they're never seen again, you got that?"

He is more serious now than I've ever seen him before. Had I not been watching him drink just moments ago, I would think he is sober. I nod to let him know that I understand. We watch each other's eyes carefully for seconds that feel like minutes.

"Be careful going home, Katniss," Haymitch says. Then he holds the liquor bottle back out to me. "Take it. You're going to need it."

I take the bottle from his hand and take a small sip as he walks me to the door. My arm is outstretched to grab the doorknob when suddenly a news story on Haymitch's television catches my attention. I take a few steps back and go in his living room, where the reporter on the television screen is saying, "We have news on the Victors Reunion that is to take place on December 12, just one week from today."

Haymitch and I shuffle in the room and sit in front of the television, listening intently to the news report.

"An inside planner for the gala has informed us here on Capitol News Network that some of the week-long reunion will be televised in order to recreate the memories surrounding Hunger Games viewers and the victors of those Games. We are not able to say who is attending the event, but among those who have not yet called in an acceptance are Porter Millicent Tripp, Haymitch Abernathy, Anun Khan, Beetee Latier, Ivy Nictron, Katniss Mellark, Peeta Mellark..."

I stop listening after I hear me and Peeta's names. "Are you going?" I ask Haymitch.

"I guess I have to," he says. "You and the boy need to be there no matter what, though."

"But we don't-"

"Uh!" he yells over me. "It's non-negotiable. You'll go or you can continue to be the talk of Panem."

"Peeta and I aren't in a place for pretending."

"Then don't pretend," Haymitch replies. "Either you go with Peeta and pretend you're having a good time, or you bring the hunter boy and openly present yourselves as a couple. Your choice."

"I can't do that to them," I say.

"You have to do something. So pick one and get back to me. The clock's ticking."

The clock on Haymitch's television stand beeps once to signal the new hour. It now reads as 11:00. I stand up and head to the door with Haymitch trailing close behind.

"See you later, Haymitch," I say.

"Soon, sweetheart."

Seven minutes later, I am walking up the sidewalk to my house. The liquor bottle in my hand is nearly empty; I was drinking on my way here. I sigh as my eyes scan the front steps. I never noticed there were so many. My legs are wobbly and slow as I climb the steps. I have to hold onto the rail to avoid falling. When I only have two steps left to go, the front door is flung open. Gale's silhouette appears in the doorway, blocking my entrance. The light escaping the gaping hole in my house illuminates his large body.

I lean against the rail and reach up with my left hand to rub my forehead. The cold glass of the liquor bottle, also in that hand, brushes against my cheek and I shiver. I look back up at the doorway. Surely enough, he's still standing there. I can't make out his face in the darkness but I know it's him. Something about the familiarity of this sitiatopn is making me dizzy. When has this happened before?

It takes me a moment to conjure up an exact day, but it comes to me. The night I found about about the Quarter Quell and realized that I was going back in the arena. I had gone to Haymitch's house to ask for advice and ended up having a drink, similar to tonight. And just like tonight, it had been Gale to fling open the door and hold me up as I collapsed. I feel almost as if I could pass out right now, too.

I try to make towards him, but my foot slips on the stair. The bottle in my hand breaks the instant it drops to the ground. I am falling, but it doesn't feel like me. It doesn't seem real. Gale catches me as I go and pulls me to my feet.

"Has she been drinking?" someone asks from behind him. One look over Gale's shoulder tells me whk the voice belongs to, although I knew who it was already. Peeta is standing to the side, making a path for Gale to carry me in.

A cynical laugh escapes my lips, leading into near hysterics. That was a stupid question.

"Of course she has," Gale snaps back, evidently irritated. "Look at her."

"I didn't know. She doesn't usually drink," Peeta explains. "Can you carry her in? I don't want her hurting herself."

"I... not... going to hurt my-myself," I object, but my words slur together in a way that makes me wonder if they can understand.

"Up you go, Catnip," Gale says as he picks me up.

He turns sideways so my feet don't get caught in the doorway, then continues on. I struggle to keep my eyes open but fail to do so, so I give in completely and lay my head against his chest as he carries me through the house. It seems like an eternity goes by with me in his arms before he finally stops.

"Where are you going?" Peeta asks. "I told you to bring her in the den."

"She's barely staying awake," Gale says. "Can't this wait until the morning?"

"She'll be hungover in the morning and won't be able to focus. We're doing it now."

"Well she won't remember anything in the morning," Gale argues.

There's a long, tense pause. The strain surrounding the room makes me shiver again.

Gale exhales, something he does to calm himself. He speaks through clenched teeth when he says, "She's shivering. Just let me take her to bed. We'll handle everything tomorrow."

"Fine," Peeta begrudgingly agrees. Then, seconds later, "Hey, Gale?

Gale turms us around. "Yeah?"

"Just take her home with you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Just make sure you keep your end of the deal." I can hear the struggle in his voice. The internal fight he's having to battle in order to give me up.

Gale adjusts me in his arms and exits the house without another word. Peeta must be waiting to shut the door behind us because we haven't been outside for thirty seconds when he says, "Take my car. You won't be able to carry her all that way."

"I can walk," I mumble.

Gale ignores me, or maybe he just doesn't hear me. "Do you have the keys?"

Peeta's footsteps crunch lightly behind us. I feel three drops of something wet drop onto my face. These two details stand out as strange. Peeta raked the leaves yesterday and besides, leaves sound differently. And it can't be raining.

My eyelids blink open. I am stunned to see a thin layer of fresh snow on the ground and more falling. "It's snowing," I say.

Gale looks down at me, appearing to be surprised that I'm speaking. He observes the scene around us and then smiles at me. "It'll make for a good day in the woods."

I don't have a chance to answer because now, Peeta is exchanging his car keys for me. I am transferred into the arms of my husband and set down in the passenger seat of our car. Gale climbs in the front seat. Peeta leans across me so he can see Gale.

"Have you ever driven before?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Okay," Peeta says. He lingers inside the car door for a moment more, then backs up. "Goodnight, Katniss."

"Goodnight," I say. Then he shuts the door and goes to stand on the porch.

I wave at Peeta as we drive away. He waves back at first, then stops and goes inside quickly, leaving me to wonder what kind of unbearable thought crossed his mind.

Once Peeta is out of sight, I turn my head so I can see Gale. He doesn't notice me looking so I take the oppurtunity to continue staring. Much like with Peeta today, I look at Gale full-on for the first time since he came back to District 12. He has aged a bit more than Peeta has, but that's because he's two years older and hasn't just had medical cosmetic surgery. That's not to say that any of us have aged much though. We're in our early thirties, after all.

Gale has three thin lines that cut across his forehead and two vertical creases between his eyebrows. He has laugh lines at the base of each cheek. His hair has still remained the same shade of chocolate brown that it's always been.

His eyebrows furrow as I watch him, causing the lines there to deepen.

"What's wrong?" I ask him. My words already sound clearer than they did a half hour ago.

He gives me a quick side glance before turning his attention back to the road. "Nothing's wrong."

"Don't lie," I say quietly.

"I'm not lying. Nothing's wrong."

I stare straight ahead at the windshield. If he doesn't want to talk about it then that's his business.

"You don't seem surprised," I comment.

"At what?"

"That I can talk," I say. "I'm not as drunk as you made me sound."

"I know that. But you're still drunk." His short, stern tone is unsettling.

"Are you mad?"

"Yeah, a little," he snaps. I wait for him to go on. I know an explanation is coming. "You know, I don't like being called at 9:00 when I'm trying to get my son to go to bed. But it's even worse when the person on the other end is your best friend's husband and he's in a jiff because his wife is missing."

"I wasn't missing, though."

'Yeah, but you didn't bother to tell anybody that, did you? You went out to some bar-"

"I wasn't at a bar. I went to Haymitch's."

Gale shakes his head angrily. "It doesn't matter."

I let him ride out his wave of frustration before I say anything else. By the time I'm about to speak again, we're parked in front of Gale's house. He puts the car in park and falls back into the seat with a sigh. Mentally, I debate whether to tell Gale about Damascus and the data chips. Maybe then he would understand why calling Peeta about my whereabouts wasn't at the top of my list of things to do. But I decide that it's better to only tell him what he needs to know. I'm going back to Haymitch's house tomorrow to pick up the bag of data chips - I left it on his table - and then I'll burn them and they won't exist anymore, so what would be the point of telling Gale about them? So instead of using excuse, I stick to an apology.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

He doesn't say anything at first. I half expect him to open his mouth, but then he opens the car doof and steps out. I do the same and walk around to his side of the car. He is trying to make out the buttons on the keypad in the dark. I take the keys from him, click "lock," and place them back in his open palm.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," I apologize again.

This time seems to work. He looks down at me, his gray-blue eyes appearing even brighter in the light of the full moon above us.

"You did a little more than scare me," he says. He chuckles quietly and smiles down at the ground. Just like his eyes, his smile is even more brilliant in the dark.

I am overwhelmed by the beauty of the man standing before me. Without thinking twice, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him. He joins in, kissing back hungrily. I use one of my hands to twist into his hair while the other hand pushes his head closer to mine. His hands are at my waist, pulling me towards him.

Just as when we were kids, Gale is the one to pull back. He breathes heavily as he says, "Someone's going to see us."

"So let's go inside," I suggest.

Gale opens his mouth to object but instead begins to smile. "My mother's with your mother at the apothecary. She said it might last all night."

"But everyone else is still here," I say, confused.

"Rory's working the night shift guarding the mines tonight. Vick and Posy are heavy sleepers. Lane is out dead until 7:15 every morning."

He unlocks the side door of his house and lets us in. He motions for me to be quiet even though we both know that the others are sleeping soundly. I follow him through the kitchen and turn left, expecting us to be going to his room.

"Where are you going?" he whispers.

"To your room?" I answer, unsure.

"Wait here. Lane might be in there."

He creeps down the pitch black hallway silently in a fashion that only a lifelong hunter like himself could. Then he disappears into his room. A moment later, he appears in the doorway giving me an 'okay' to enter.

I've never been in Gale's bedroom before. The walls are painted forest green. The bed covers and blankets are black. While forest green is normally a shade too dark use on walls, I can't help but admire it and acknowledge that it fits nicely. On the desk across the room is a darkened lamp, some manila folders with official-looking papers sticking out, and some photo albums.

I come to my senses after examining the room and realize that I haven't seen Gale since I walked in. "Gale?" I whisper to the darkness.

Gale grabs my hand from behind. I spin around to face him and am met by his lips. He kisses me in an unexpectedly fervent manner. Wild and welcome. Something I've never experienced before. It doesn't take long before he begins taking it in a different direction than I want. I put my hands against his chest and push back from him.

"What's wrong?"

"I just don't want to," I say. "At least, not tonight."

"That's not the feeling I was getting," he replies. "Don't play that game, Katniss."

"I wasn't playing any games. I just don't want to."

"You don't want to, or you can't?"

I take no time to answer. "I don't want to."

"Fine," he says. Then he goes across the room to grab an old shirt and sweatpants from his drawer. "I'm going to shower before bed, alright? Make yourself comfortable."

"Okay," I say.

He gives me a quick, chaste kiss before leaving me alone in the dark room. I don't move until I hear the shower starting up. Then I turn on the lamp on his desk. It's much dimmer than I expected. The light draws my attention to the files and photo albums on Gale's desk.

I know it would be wrong and that I'd be interfering in his personal life. But there's so much that I still don't know about the grown up Gale. There are so many things he won't tell me and questions I'm afraid to ask. I try to come up with a logical explanation for what I'm being tempted to do, but there isn't one, so I go for it.

The first things my hands grab at is the photo album at the top of the stack of three. I inhale and exhale twice to release my fears of what I'll find in the book. But that fear is irrational. Why would Gale have anything to hide from me?

I flip open the cover tentatively. "The Hawthornes" is written in swirly script across the front title page. I flip to the next page and see a picture of Gale and I at his graduation. He graduated from school two months before I was reaped for the Quarter Quell. I cringe at the amount of visible stress I was under at the time, then flip to the next page to save myself. The next page contains a picture of me, Gale, and Peeta having some down time in military training. Then is a picture of me and Gale holding each other at the train station after my first Games. There were photographers everywhere that day. Gale probably clipped this one from one of the dozens of magazines this picture was likely in, seeing as that was the event that forced us to create the "cousins" rumor. After that picture are a few of Gale and I before my Games and one of us and all our siblings.

From there, the time period changes to our stay in District 13. he next page contains a picture of me, Prim, and Gale sitting on the floor at an assembly. The one next to it is me, Gale, Peeta, Johanna, Finnick, and Effie at lunch. I shiver at the sight of all the smiling faces accompanied by Peeta's wicked frown. To rid myself of the disturbed feeling, I flip the page. I am surprised to see a picture of them hugging after Gale returned from Peeta's rescue mission. I didn't think Prim was there that night. The picture beside it was taken before we left for the Capitol. It's Gale and Prim hugging once again, only in this one, I can see her tearstained cheeks, the redness of her eyes.

Then is something interesting. A picture of the funeral that Peeta and I ended up holding in District 12. It was too late to give her a true funeral, but we felt it was a good way to honor her memory. Inever knew that he was there. I probably would have thrown him out if I had. I decide to shrug if off. There's no use in getting worked up over something that happened twelve and a half years ago.

The time period then morphs into post-war. The pictures are set in District 2 now. I flip through numerous photos of Gale and his military friends. Once the war was over, many soldiers were given a test to see if they could continue as a soldier or if they could be ruled out. I was a definite rule-out, but Gale was given the option of getting out or staying in. Greasy Sae told me about Gale for a while after I moved back to District 12 - until my temper snapped one day and I told her I never wanted to hear his name again. Anyway, he stayed a soldier for another two months and then quit. So the photos I'm seeing now are with fellow soldiers from District 2. The pages after that are filled with Gale wearing nice clothes and posing with young men dressed in suits similar to his and young women wearing dresses and heels. From the looks of things, he must've gone out with them often.

I flip the page. It's a newspaper clipping of Prim's obituary. The picture beside it is of Gale and Prim when they were just kids. Gale was fifteen and Prim was turning nine. He was standing behind Prim with his arms hanging playfully around her neck, while Prim squatted with her hands grabbing his arms to wrestle out of his grasp. I had just gotten home from the Hob trading that day's game when the picture was taken. The two of them looked so happy, with gleaming eyes and wide smiles.

I flip the page again. The image on the left side is perplexing, to say the least. It's a photo of Prim and Gale in front of District 2's Justice Building. Gale has his arm around Prim's waist while she points excitedly at the Justice Building behind them. The photo next to it shows Gale and Prim standing in someone's house at a party. Gale holds a flask in one hand and has his other arm around Prim's waist. The page behind this one contains a picture of Gale smiling into the camera while Prim stares up at him longingly, and another picture taken on the same day in which Gale is kissing Prim on the cheek while she smiles hugely. The more pictures I see, the more confused I get.

I try to rationalize but I am left with nothing. There was no point in Prim's life that she was ever in District 2. Not to mention her death thirteen years ago when she was barely fourteen years old. Why did she look so much older in these photos? Why was she with Gale? And why do they seem closer than I remember them being?

The next two pages consist of pictures of Gale and Prim kissing full on the lips, something that leaves me shocked and shaking. Then, a picture of Prim in a long white dress carrying a bouquet of primrose flowers as she walks through someone's yard in the spring. After that, a picture of Prim in the same dress, standing with a well-dressed Gale, one of Prim's school friends in District 12, some of Gale's friends from previous pictures, my mother, Delly Cartwright, Effie, Johanna, and Annie and her son. Seeing Annie and her toddler-aged son in this photo confirms what I've been afraid to conclude: Prim is still alive.

I need to stop looking. I won't be able to handle much more of this. And Gale will be out of the shower any minute now. But I can't help turning one more page. One more page to close the question that I already know the answer to. As I turn the page, my heart speeds to an extraordinarily fast rate. And then I see the picture and my heart stops completely.

I was right. Prim is Lane's mother.

* * *

 **A/N: This chapter took _so_ much thought, but I think I like the way it turned out. I hope all of you did too! I know you guys probably have a lot of questions about what just happened, so please leave them in your reviews and I'll answer them at the end of the next chapter. Or you can PM me, which I would prefer, and I can give you a detailed answer.**

 **Just as a recap: Maysi was being tracked by someone (probably the Capitol), Katniss drank a little too much and came back to her house to find Gale and Peeta arguing about when to have a group talk with her, Katniss went home with Gale, Katniss went through Gale's photo albums, and now we've discovered that Prim is Lane's mother.**

 **Please remember to review and let me know what you thought of this chapter! I'm sure your minds are blown ;)**


	18. Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

In hindsight, I could have guessed it. Gale's need for me to forgive him for his involvement in Prim's supposed death, his breakdowns whenever he speaks of her, and the most obvious of the three, Lane calling me 'Aunt Katniss' just several days ago. That clue in particular is nearly comedic. How did I not catch that?

The shower turns off in the next room. I hear Gale pull the towel from its hanger and begin drying off. My heart begins to pound. What am I going to do?

My panic overrules my brain for all of one minute. Do I pretend I didn't see it? Do I ask about it? Do I stay and pretend to be asleep? Do I leave?

My eyes flicker to the door. Gale will be back in his bedroom any second now. If I try to sneak past the bathroom door, I run the risk of bumping into him. Now I search the room for another escape method. There are no windows in Gale's room. The closest window that I know of is the one past the bathroom in Posy's room. But going in her room is even more dangerous because even if I manage to get past Gale, I might wake Posy while trying to open her window. My only choice is to sneak past the bathroom and go out the same door I came in.

I put the photo album back where I found it and try to clean up the area I was in so I don't arouse suspicion. From there, I listen. I can't hear any movement from the bathroom, which could mean a number of things. I need to try to get out, though. I need time to think without Gale's influence.

I am in the hallway now. My heart beats quicker as I near the bathroom. It's only a few feet away. If I can make it past that door...

The bathroom door opens then and out walks Gale, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He is looking down at the floor while drying his hair with a second towel. I stop in my tracks. He's less than three feet away. If I try to go back to his room now, he'll hear me. Or worse yet, he might even see me. But there's no way for me to get past him and leave the house now. So I move into an improvised back-up plan.

He starts walking down the carpeted hallway to his bedroom. When he gets just close enough to me, I yank the towel from his hands, drop it to the floor, and kiss him.

His eyes are shut but his eyebrows are raised in surprise. He kisses back happily and obligingly, as if this was what he was hoping for. He pulls back and smiles. "Hey there, Catnip. Thought you'd be asleep by now."

I grab his arms and give him a sugar-sweet smile. "I wanted to stay up with you."

He laughs and kisses my nose. "Whatever you want to do."

We go back to his room. I sit on his bed. He tells me to close my eyes while he's changing and at first I do, but then I see the mirror hanging on the wall beside me and can't resist peeking as he puts on his shirt. Surprisingly, he is more toned now than he was as a teenager. Hunting is what has helped him maintain this healthy appearance. Also, he can afford to buy real food at the market now, which takes away from the emaciated, bony look we both had back then.

When he's done dressing, he comes over to sit beside me. "You didn't bring any other clothes?" he asks.

"No. It's okay though," I say.

He gives me one long look, then says, "No. I'll go get you something of Posy's."

Then he leaves the room. I consider making a run for it again while he's gone, but he's back before I can make a decision.

"I brought a shirt. I couldn't find any pants."

"It's fine," I tell him, taking the shirt. "I don't like pants anyway."

He smiles, a look of adoration that nearly melts me into temporarily forgetting what I just saw. "I'll turn around."

He makes a show of turning and putting his hands over his eyes. I change as quickly as I can. Then I climb into his bed again and crawl under the sheets next to him. Our arms brush against each other. This accidental touch sends electricity sparking through me. Then he puts one of his hands against my cheek and kisses me. My heart rate speeds up significantly. I can hear the blood pounding behind my ears as it circulates, drowning out my audible heartbeat. But my conscience doesn't want this. _What are you doing?_ It screams. _He was married to your sister!_

I pull away from him and take a deep breath to collect myself. I won't be able to do this if I'm stressed. "We're best friends, right?"

He seems confused, and rightly so. "Yeah."

"So even with all of this," I gesture at him and then at myself, "we're still friends? We still tell each other everything?"

"Yeah. Why?"

I hesitate before answering. Am I making the right decision? Admitting that I went through his things might make him angry. But he didn't tell me about his relationship with my dead sister, so I have more reason to be angry.

"Who is Lane's mother?" I ask.

His eyes grow wide as the soul inside of them travels a million miles away. All emotion has been sucked from his features. It's as if my question has taken him to another place entirely. He doesn't answer right away.

When he finally brings himself above the waves of thoughts in his mind, he tries to compose himself. "Why do you ask?" he stammers a little but clears his throat in an attempt to cover it.

"Just... We should be honest. About the past, I mean. I've told you mine but I haven't heard much of yours."

"Of everything you could have asked..."

"It's touchy, I know. But this can't work if we don't know each other."

"We _do_ know each other, Katniss."

"Maybe you know me, but I feel like I haven't ever known you," I retort.

He leans back from me slightly, a natural defense to my unintentionally harsh words. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I am now," I reply.

His eyes are gleaming now. The pale light coming from the lamp across the room shines on his back, making the man facing me appear to simply be a shadow. He looks down. His hurt expression transforms into one of intense concentration as he fights an internal battle: to tell me or not to tell me.

"I can't say," he finally says, but he's so quiet that I wonder if I imagined it.

"Why not?" I ask, matching his volume.

"It'll hurt you more than it's ever hurt me."

"I've had my fair share of loved ones' deaths. I can handle whatever this is. Besides, I don't know her."

"But you do," he chokes out. "You do know her."

It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep up my act, but I manage to remain unmindful. "I don't know anyone who's died in the past few years," I say.

"That's because you were told that she died thirteen years ago."

I already know this fact, but hearing it said aloud is just as shocking as learning it myself. The shock hitd me just as hard as the first time. So when he says it, I whisper, "Prim."

He winces when he hears her name, but he nods. His head falls into his hands and his shoulders shake with audible sobs. I let him mourn without interfering. I know from years with Gale that it's best to let him handle his own emotions. Getting involved only prolongs the process and angers him. He sniffs a few more times before raising his head so that only his mouth is covered by his hands.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. He turns his head and looks at me. "I'm so sorry."

"I know," I say.

"It's okay to be mad at me, Katniss." He takes in my reaction, which is just south of being neutral. "Are you mad at all?"

His comment makes me realize that there is much anger and sadness to come. The weight of this just has not set in yet. But it's not time for it to. Not until I know the whole truth.

So I ignore his question and ask him one of my own. "Gale?" He doesn't answer but I know he's listening. I take a shaky breath before asking the question that might change everything. "She's still alive, isn't she?"

The desperate look in his eyes tells me more than his lips can say.

Yes.

* * *

 **A/N: Major cliffhanger! I really wanted to know your predictions about Prim. Why didn't Gale or anybody else tell Katniss that Prim was alive? Is Prim alive? Gale told Katniss that his wife died a few years ago, but do you guys believe him? If she's alive, where do you think Prim is now?**

 **This chapter was probably the shortest I've posted yet, but after the last few 4,000+ word chapters, I think it's a nice break. But because you didn't get any answers or real substance from this chapter, I'll post again in a few days. Please remember to review, and thank you guys so much for the support you've given me and this story. Coming into this fandom was a big wake up call because of how crazy things can get between Peeta fans and Gale fans (and even Katniss haters!) but I'm so glad I did. Thank you for that!**


	19. Chapter 19

_Previously in_ Squad 451 _..._

 _"Gale?" He doesn't answer but I know he's listening. I take a shaky breath before asking the question that might change everything. "She's still alive, isn't she?"_

 _The desperate look in his eyes tells me more than his lips can say._

 _Yes._

* * *

CHAPTER 19

I am emotionless. Speechless, too. While sorting through my brain after my discovery, it seems as though I formed a defensive wall around my heart to make it numb. Or maybe it's just the leftover alcohol in my system.

In my wildest dreams, I never expected this to happen. I am having trouble believing this isn't one. She's alive, I'm almost positive she is. But my denial stands strong.

"Gale," I say once I've regained my equanimity. "What happened to her?"

He shakes his head twice as a refusal to answer. But I am refusing to condone the unknown any longer.

I reach forward and grip his arm as tightly as I can. Our eyes connect and I see the alarm in his. He tries to rip his arm from my grasp but I am stronger than he thinks. Now I have his attention. My intention was to speak in a strong, unwavering voice, but this goal fails halfway through my sentence. "Tell me what happened to her."

My voice slipping up must have triggered the tears that follow mere seconds afterwards. They crowd into my eyes, leaving my eyelashes damp and my vision blurry. I try blinking them away, but to no avail. This only aggravates the dam that is ready to burst. But to my surprise, only one tear falls. It follows a straight path down my cheek. Then another tear from the opposite eye falls in a similarly straight line. But there are no more after that.

As a child, I thought that the harder someone cried, the more pain he or she was in. But now I know that that couldn't be farther from the truth. Sometimes, the person who holds back tears is the one who is saddest. The one who can barely make it through each day. The one who used to have everything and now has nothing.

"Gale-"

The tearful man that I saw just seconds ago has since become anxious, exuding fear. "There are some things that you shouldn't know, Katniss."

I jump up from his bed and stand on the ground. He follows suit and begins pacing around the room.

"She's my sister!" I cry out. "Don't you think I should know what happened to her?"

"It's not safe-" he starts.

"What's not safe?" I exclaim.

"You can't know about this. You were never supposed to know. Everything is wrong now."

"You have no right to tell _me_ what's wrong," I spit out.

I suck in a fearful breath because deep down, I am afraid of him being offended by my comment. But I wear my poker face. On the surface, I couldn't care less. I want him to suffer as much as Prim has. As much as I have.

Gale is looking everywhere but at me. It's as if he's afraid of what he might find standing in my place. Something about this single piece of disrespect sets me off. I storm off toward the door, fully intent on leaving. He stops me before I can turn the doorknob.

"No," he says. I slowly turn so I can see him. "You can't leave."

"And you can't make me stay."

"I have to," he says. "It's not safe to go outside now."

"Do you really think I can't handle the dark? I'm an adult."

"I meant that it's not safe to be anywhere. Not knowing what you know."

"And what exactly _do_ I know?" I exclaim. One look at his blank, speechless face gives me the fuel I need to continue. "I'm leaving. Don't make the mistake of following me."

"Katniss," he pleads. "You have to stay here. Please."

I turn once again. Then I begin walking closer to him until I have him cornered between myself and the wall. "What happened to her?" I scream. "What did you do to her?"

His dumbfounded expression makes me halt my accusations. There's no way he could have hurt her. I've heard that the eyes will tell more about a person than their tongues ever will. This much I know to be true. He's too innocent to have hurt her. My insinuation that he did hurt her seems to have upset him far more than anything else I've said.

"I'm sorry," I try to say, but he speaks at the same time.

'I-I could never... could never hurt her," he says quietly.

The internal pain he's experiencing is excruciating to watch. How is he able to bear it?

"I know. I'm sorry," I whisper. I take a step toward him. My throat is closing, my heart is pounding, and my hands are shaking. My face contorts into a strange, apologetic sorrow that cannot be expressed through words. "I'm sorry," I say again.

And now he has reached his breaking point. He slides down to his feet, his back against the wall and his face buried in his knees. "I don't know where she is," he sobs.

"What?" I say. "What do you mean, you don't know where she is?"

He motions for me to sit down in front of him, so I do.

"They thought she was dead. They wanted her dead. She was much stronger than you and she was younger. She didn't have the same fire as you, but she had the districts' support and the good will to do something. So she went in hiding two years after Lane was born. I never saw her after that day. We wrote letters, though. It killed me to spend two years without her."

"Why wasn't she hiding out the entire time?" I ask.

"She didn't want to. I tried to convince her, I really did. But she begged me not to make her. And I wouldn't have been able to let her even if she wanted to. I promised you I would always look out for her. I wasn't going to let up on that."

"Oh," I say quietly.

"Two months after the end of the war, I decided she wasn't safe living by herself. So I offered to let her be my roommate. Watching out for Prim meant having little time to myself, but that was okay. Eventually, she became part of my definition of 'myself.' Alone time wasn't just for me anymore, it was for me and her. I was okay with that.

"You and Prim are so different, but something about her always reminded me of you. There were a few times in the beginning when we'd be sitting in front of the TV in my apartment after I finished work. She would get cold and I would offer her a blanket. She'd take it and wrap it around her shoulders. It never took her long after that to start dozing. Then her head would fall on my shoulder. Something about it made me believe - for just a second - that it was you.

"Nights turned into weekends and weekends turned into weekdays, where I would call in sick and skip work just so I could spend time with her. I knew I was in love with her, but I was afraid it was for the wrong reasons. It took a while to accept, but I did love her.

"Anyway, Lane was four years old when I first allowed myself to think of you again. I was driving him home from day school. I asked him what he did at school that day, and he told me they learned about families. Their assignment was to draw their family and write what connection the kids had to each person. The teacher came around to check their work and she asked why Lane didn't write his Aunt Katniss. I had to explain to him that you weren't a part of our lives.

"When we got home, I wrote Prim and asked how you were. She said you were doing fine. She told me about you and Peeta, and your two kids. I assumed you were keeping in touch with her. She told me that I should go back to visit District 12 and see you, but I told her that I couldn't. I didn't ever tell her why. She didn't know that I designed the bombs. She didn't know why I moved so far away from home and never came back.

"This spring, she stopped writing back to me. I assumed that she was moving quarters and would get settled and start writing back soon. She changed quarters every six months and it usually took a while for security reasons, so I didn't get suspicious until three months passed with no answer. I went to her old address while Lane was at school one day. All her stuff was there, but she wasn't. No one was there. She was missing. So I came back here because I thought you knew." Then he looks up at the ceiling. "I thought you knew."

"You thought I knew what?" I ask.

He ignores my question. "I don't know where she is. If she's dead or alive. She could be with another man by now."

I trail away from his topic to bring up another bothersome one. "I thought you said you weren't married," I say.

He makes a face at me. "What?"

"There's a wedding ring on your desk and pictures of the wedding in that photo album."

"You went through my stuff?" he asks, his anger growing.

"Don't try to throw this back on me! Why did you lie?"

His eyes drop, unintentionally displaying his shame at being caught in a lie. "I couldn't tell you. I didn't want you overreacting if you found out about Prim on your own."

"I have reason to be angry though, don't you think?" I ask him. My voice is rising. "You married my dead sister and had a son with her. Then she went missing and you came back here. Somewhere along the line, you realized I had no idea where she was, so you decided I was the closest you were going to get to having her back." I shake my head to clear my thoughts. "Do you realize how sick that is?"

"That's not what this is," he argues. "You've always been the one I wanted."

"So _she_ was the replacement."

"I was in love with her."

"Then you can't be in love with me," I say.

He stands up angrily. "That's not fair."

"Why not?" I demand.

"If I can't love both you and Prim, then you can't love both me and Peeta."

I freeze. There's no acceptable answer to that.

"This is reality, Katniss. I love Prim and you love Peeta," he says.

"Then what do we do about it?"

"We can't do anything. Nothing's going to change. Love doesn't just go away."

We stare at each other for a long time, both of us wondering whether it's okay to apologize for our behavior and make up. But it's not. Because my best friend - the man I'm tearing my family apart for - knew that my sister was alive, married her, had a child with her, and never told me. She never told me either, though, and maybe that's worse.

Gale approaches me wordlessly. He comes closer until his face is inches away from mine. He stares straight into my eyes in the form of a silent apology. Then his arms slide around my waist and he pulls me against him. I close my eyes as I clutch the back of his shoulder and bury my face in the curve where his neck connects to his shoulder.

"I love you," he says quietly. "I can't let you get away from me."

 _I'm not going anywhere_ , I wish I could say back. But I am leaving. I have to. I can't be near him anymore. I shouldn't be. Not now.

But his eyes are a threat to my strength. I know I'm giving him across-the-board emotions and reactions. But the truth is, I can't get a grip on myself around him. I never have been able to, but it seems that it's gotten worse as the both of us have aged.

So when he begs me to stay the night with him, I do.

* * *

"Gale, Gale, Gale. I've seen the girls you bring home, but none of them have ever been wearing clothes in the morning!"

I roll over on my back lazily. I'm suddenly aware of skin against my face. Fear runs through me. What happened last night?

Quickly, I sit up and rub my eyes. I sigh when I see Gale - shirtless, but, thankfully, wearing pants - sitting up with his back against his pillow.

"You woke her up, Posy," he scolds. Then he leans over and gives me a lingering kiss. "Hey, Catnip."

The early morning kiss overwhelms me. For a few moments, my brain refuses to function. He laughs at the stunned expression that I must be sporting. I remember that Posy is here and look up at the doorway. She looks just as shocked as I was a minute ago.

"So you're really serious this time?" Posy asks her older brother.

"Not quite. All woek and no play makes for a boring day," he replies. Then he looks to me. "Right, Katniss?"

"What are we talking about?" I ask.

"Posy didn't believe that you and I are serious about our relationship. She came in here just now and saw us fully clothed and asked if you and I are actually getting serious. So I told her that all work and no play makes for a boring day." Gale ends his explanation with a seductive wink.

I glare at him. "Since when is that anyone's business?" I say through clenched teeth.

"I'm trying to teach Posy here that spending the night with someone before marriage isn't always a bad thing if you love the person and intend to spend the rest of your life with them."

"Normal brothers wouldn't encourage that," Posy chimes in.

"I never claimed to be normal, Pose," he says.

"I'm going to breakfast. You both should come soon before Rory gets home and eats everything."

Gale's eyebrows furrow and he frowns. "Rory's not home yet?"

The two siblings exchange a look of worry. They seem to simultaneously remember my presence and change the subject.

"We'll be there in a few minutes," Gale tells her.

Once Posy has left and shut the door behind her, Gale stands up and puts on a shirt. I don't realize that I'm watching him until his eyes meet my stare. He grins. "Liking the view?" he jokes.

"That's not funny," I say, turning my head in the opposite direction.

"I was kidding!" He doesn't say anything else until he's changed into a clean pair of pants. "I'm going to the kitchen. Change into whatever you can find." He gestures to the mountain of clothes strewn across the carpet. Then he starts out the door.

"Actually, I should go home," I say.

"Why?" he asks, but it sounds demanding. He turns to face me again.

"Peeta wanted me back this morning, remember? And the kids are probably wondering where I am."

"I'm sure Peeta told them that you're hunting. And he needs to understand that you're with me now."

"This isn't about you and me, Gale. This is about Peeta being my husband. And our kids."

Gale holds my gaze for almost a full minute, waiting for me to back down. When I don't, he exhales loudly, irritated. "Whatever, Katniss."

I get out of the bed and dig around for my dirty clothes from last night. I find my shirt and remove the one I'm wearing now, which belongs to Posy. Then I find my pants and slide them on one leg, then the other. When I turn around to leave, I am embarrassed to see that Gale never left. A blush spreads throughout my entire face. To cover my eembarrassment, I make a joke.

"Now who's enjoying the view?" I say.

He laughs. "Sorry. I didn't know you were changing. It would've scared you if I had left in the middle. And I still have a question for you."

"Okay."

"Do you want to spend the night here tonight, too?"

I walk towards him and kiss his cheek. "Sure," I say.

I try to walk around him to get to the door, but he grabs my wrists and holds me in place. Our foreheads rest against each other. He looks at me through his eyelashes and says, "How about every day for the rest of your life?"

For a fraction of a second I consider doing something stupid like smiling, or giggling, or worse still, _agreeing_. Fortunately, I catch myself just in time enough to send a blaring reminder through my head. _DO NOT AGREE TO THIS. YOU HAVE A FAMILY._

So I drop my developing smile and step back from him. "You know I would. Things are complicated right now."

The dreamy smile drops from his face, as well. "I know. Tell Peeta I said thank you."

"I will," I say.

I leave in a hurry before Gale can remember that it's not safe for me to be outside. It's a stupid rule, anyway.

* * *

"Mommy's home!" Will yells from the den.

I walk in to see him, still dressed in his pajamas - a light blue one-piece made of fleece, with long sleeves, long pants legs, and attached feet with pads at the bottom. His curly hair is wild and untamed. He's sitting on the couch watching cartoons on the television. Even with his legs stretched straight out in front of him, his feet just barely dangle off the edge of the cushion.

"Hey, Willy," I say.

He turns around, gives me a big smile, and jumps down from the couch. Then he comes running toward me and into my arms. "Hi, mommy! Guess what?"

"What?" I answer.

"It's my buhfday!" he says, failing to correctly pronounce 'birthday.'

It takes a moment for the initial guilt to set in. _You forgot your son's birthday. Good going,_ I think sarcastically. Then the big picture hits me, causing my previous panic to intensify several times over. I forgot my son's birthday.

Peeta walks in then, saving me from my horror.

"Hey, Katniss," he says. "Where's Gale?"

Another thing I'd forgotten. Gale was supposed to come home with me today.

"He got held up. Lane was sick," I lie.

"Oh. That's okay, I decided we didn't need to discuss anything. Everything's crystal clear. So are you doing well after last night?"

My eyes widen. Surely he doesn't know what I learned last night. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"You were drinking, remember?"

I sigh in relief. Of course he doesn't know. There's no way that he could. "Oh, that. I'm fine. I wasn't that bad."

"You couldn't stand."

"I could stand! I walked all the way here from Haymitch's without falling over."

"Whatever you say," he agrees. "Did Will tell you what's happening today?"

I nod and go to Will. I tickle his stomach, then kiss his forehead. "My big boy's three years old today!" I exclaim. "How did you grow up so fast?"

"I eat all my peas!" Will replies.

"That's right. And you better keep eating them," Peeta says. "Why don't you keep watching your show while me and mommy talk in the kitchen?"

Will agrees to this and sits back down on the sofa.

Peeta leads me into the kitchen; where he crosses his arms. "You forgot his birthday."

"I've had a lot on my mind," I reply, knowing that my excuse isn't good enough.

"I have too, but I remembered our son's birthday! He isn't always going to be this young, Katniss. You should spend more time with him."

"I spend more time with the kids than you do!" I argue.

"No, you take them to and from school. Then help Maysi with her homework and tell Will to go watch TV. Occasionally you make them supper. But you don't spend any real time with them."

As badly as I want to deny it, I can't. It's true, I don't spend enough time with my children. I never realized it before. So I change the subject.

"Gale wanted me to say thank you for him."

Peeta doesn't respond.

"And he wants me to come back tonight," I add.

Peeta laughs rudely. "Tonight?" he asks disbelievingly.

"Yeah."

"Tonight is Will's birthday, Katniss!" he yells.

"I know that! I wasn't going to leave until he went to sleep!"

Peeta shakes his head. "You don't understand how hard it is to go in your son's room and comfort him when he wakes up from a nightmare - crying - and have to tell him where his mother is when he asks. Because you've been the one to get him through nightmares. You always have since he was a baby. And now you're leaving me as a single father."

"You offered to let me go. And let's not forget that I was gone for less than seven hours," I say.

"It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're letting your family suffer for someone who has lied to you more times than I can count."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, dismayed.

Peeta must've realized that he said too much because he purses his lips shut.

"Peeta, what are you talking about?" I repeat.

"Nothing. I got carried away. Leave tonight if you want to, or leave now if that suits your needs. I don't care."

"Yes, you do."

"You're right. But my opinion doesn't matter anymore."

And then he walks out of the room. I hear him climbing the stairs. Soon after that, I hear our bedroom door shut.

Strangely, I no longer feel bad for being here with Peeta after being with Gale. I only feel bad when I am with Gale. Maybe because he is the one who has kept my sister's secret from me for thirteen years.

I feel a strange urge to confide in Peeta about Prim. To ask him what he knows, if he knows anything. But that would only make things worse between him and Gale. Something deep in the pit of stomach tells me that I should trust Peeta, though. And I do. I always have. But I should trust him with this.

If I choose to tell Peeta about what I've learned, then one thing has to change. I can never trust Gale again. Not if I want a chance at finding Prim.

* * *

 **A/N: There was a good bit of foreshadowing in this chapter, you just have to be careful enough to find it! I suggest re-reading the chapter to see if you can spot it. Then you should tell me what you found in the reviews. Also, please remember to review your thoughts about this chapter and your theories for what's coming up in future chapters!**


	20. Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

I end up staying for Will's birthday. Peeta seemed surprised when I told him my decision, like he truly expected me to miss this day for personal time with Gale. To me, his assumption was very telling of what he thinks of me.

Peeta is taking Maysi to pick up Haymitch for Will's small birthday dinner. Meanwhile, Will is upstairs napping. This is as good as being alone in the house, so I take advantage of it. I am laying across the couch in the den, watching the snow fall outside of our paneled windows. As I watch, I allow myself to collapse into deep thoughts.

I start off by letting my mind wander to Gale. I wonder what he's doing now? I bet he's watching the snow, too. Only he'll be in the woods somewhere, hoping that I'll show up. But I'm not going to.

Thinking about Gale gives me chills that tingle down my spine. This leads me to realize what this feeling really is. I don't mean the chills, I mean the guilt that I feel when I'm around Gale. Me feeling bad for what I'm doing, for the sins that I'm committing, isn't all there is to it. A large portion of it is a feeling of filth. As if my life is dirt, or like I am dirty. I hate it.

Along with the thoughts of Gale comes the girl whose name I now associate with his. Prim.

Prim. I wonder what she's doing now? Is she really still out there somewhere, hiding out from the Capitol and the officials that want her gone? Is she okay? Gale has no idea where Prim is, but my mother might. She's clearly been keeping up with her since the wedding.

The whole thing makes no sense. I badly want for someone to straighten my perception of it. I need answers to other questions, too. At what point did Gale and Prim realize they were in love? Was there always some sort of attraction between the two of them? If so, how did I not catch it? Did Prim truly love Gale, or was her big heart too kind to break his normally-guarded one? And most importantly, did Gale ever really love me? Or was he using me to get to my sister?

I don't know which is worse - loving someone you can't have, or having someone you can't love. This very thought used to prey on me every waking minute, and now here it is again, back from vacation.

Is it better to love Gale, who is and always has been forbidden from me? Or is it better to love Peeta, who I love endlessly but who will never have the security of my entire heart? The last problem is one shared between both Gale and Peeta. Neither of them will ever have me to themselves. I will never be able to love just one of them.

What about Peeta, though? For me, Peeta was the first man I was sure I wanted. In his interview with Caesar Flickerman the night before our first Games, he professed his love for me. In the arena, I played up a fake romance for the cameras to ensure that we received gifts from sponsors. Then we won the Games and went home and I made the decision to avoid him and pretend that our on-screen romance never happened. But the cameras came back, leaving Peeta and I to make a true friendship but play the role of star-crossed lovers in the open. Peeta became my only sense of comfort. He was the only one who understood how I felt. The only one who could relate to my horrific nightmares and reminders of the hell we experienced. But bad dreams weren't the only thing we shared. We began to share my bed in order to rid off those nightmares. It didn't take longfor me begin to reciprocate the feelings he had for me. But I was confused; was the love I felt real? We were being forced to marry each other. I had to love him. He was my only option.

And then came that afternoon on the beach during the Quell. The sun was setting around us, the waves were crashing to shore mere feet away, and the other tributes were out of earshot. In that place, I experienced the first kiss between Peeta and I that made me feel something. It made me want more. It was soft and gentle, but also hungry - starving, even - for the life that we could never have together because we both knew that there would only be one victor of those Games. You can see how surprised I felt when there ended up being six survivors that year. Me, Peeta, Finnick, Johanna, Beetee, and Enobaria. The moment I discovered that I had been rescued from the arena and Peeta had not was the moment I realized the extent of my feelings for him. Seeing him after the fact - emaciated and warn, exhausted and beaten down, hijacked almost beyond hope of recovery - changed things. Gale had been my source of comfort and support while Peeta was in captivity in the Capitol. I had expected Peeta and I to have an emotional reunion with lots of tears and hugging. But he came back as a different person entirely. He was a monster.

After the war, he planted a bunch of primroses outside of my house in the Victor's Village. They're still there today. My mother still lives in that house. Peeta goes over on the weekends to water the flowers for her. The primroses give her hope, or I always thought they did. Now I know that her gratefulness for this memorial Peeta made for Prim was fake. And her sadness over Prim's death was yet another lie. Her youngest daughter was alive and she knew it the whole time.

Anyway, that's when I knew I loved Peeta. When he planted those primroses. It's what tied the knot before either of us even thought about marriage, much less beginning a real romantic relationship that would be unaffected by the Capitol.

In time, I stopped thinking about Gale. I stopped waking at dawn to go to the woods in hopes of seeing him. Why? Because I didn't want to miss him. I wanted to hate him. I did hate him; I believed that he was the one to "kill" my sister. So I untied any strings that tied me to our friendship.

So the question now is, do I truly love Gale now? _Of course you love him. He's your best friend_ , my mind replies. It's just the answer I need. If that's the only reasoning I can come up with, that I love him because he's my friend, then maybe I don't love him in the way that I should. The the way I love Peeta.

On the other hand, I do love him in an amorous way. I love his heart. I love his fire. But I also am drawn to the way he loves me in return. The passionate glances, the heated kisses, how his arms can perfectly encircle me. I know everything about him. He knows me better than I know myself. We complement together.

But the same can be said about Peeta and I.

One way or another, I have to choose between them. And I have less than enough time to do so. Haymitch needs an answer soon. What will be the angle I play for the reporters when I'm attending the Victors Reunion? It's a decision I'm not sure I can make.

My eyelids begin to grow heavy. I try to blink them open but they refuse, so I allow myself to doze off.

* * *

It's late afternoon when I jolt to consciousness, screaming Prim's name. It takes me several minutes to calm myself. I try using the breathing techniques that my post-war psychiatrist taught me. The fear slowly fades from my mind. My heart rate slows until it is back to its normal pace.

I hear a quiet whimper come from the second floor, followed by a cry. Will must've just woken up, too. I head upstairs to calm him. When I get to his room, I find him sitting in the middle of the floor. He begins to cry harder when he sees me.

"What's wrong, Willy?" I ask worriedly. I pick him up, setting his body on my hip, and bounce him lightly in an attempt to calm him.

He continues to cry. His jumbled toddler's voice is almost beyond my comprehension when he speaks. "I had a bad dream!"

"You had a bad dream?" I ask to make sure that I heard him correctly. He nods sadly. "It's okay, Willy. I had one, too."

He looks at me in surprise. "You did?"

"Yeah. I get them all the time." I start to walk to the chair in the corner of Will's nursery, where I used to sing him to sleep. Once I am seated, I reposition Will so he can sit in my lap.

"What your dreams about?" he asks.

"All kinds of things," I say, because I can't tell him the truth. He is too young to know of the things that haunt me at night. "What was your dream about?"

"My aunt," he replies.

My eyes grow wide and my face blanks over. His aunt! Every thought in my head becomes one jumbled voice screaming Prim's name. How does Will know about her? I've certainly never told him.

"Your aunt?" I say.

"Mhm, Aunt Prim! She was here," he says.

I shake my head. "Aunt Prim isn't here, Will."

"Right here!" he insists.

"Okay, maybe she was," I say to ease his mind so he'll continue talking. "What was the bad part of the dream?"

"She fell in that window." He points to the window in the middle of the room, between the chair we're sitting in and his crib. To my astonishment, I turn to find that the window is just barely cracked open, allowing a small breeze to drift through.

"She fell in the window?"

He nods.

"And she came in this room?"

He nods again.

"Will, are you sure you were dreaming?" I ask.

He seems to take a moment to think before answering with a nod.

Then why is the window open? I wonder to myself. It didn't open on its own. There had to have been some inside or outside force.

But I let the subject drop. I'll ask Peeta about it later. There's still something I am intrigued by, though, and that's Will's knowledge of Prim.

"Will, who told you about your aunt?" I ask.

"I don't wemember," Will says, holding his hands up in question.

I don't press the issue. If he doesn't remember then he doesn't remember. Simple as that. Besides, he's still just a toddler. If I nag him for too long, he'll get aggravated. So I say, "Okay. Are you better now?"

Will nods. "No bad dreams now."

I smile at him. "Good."

He leans forward and kisses my cheek. "And no more for mommy, too."

"Thanks, Willy," I say. I hear someone unlocking the front door downstairs. Peeta must be home. "Let's go downstairs and celebrate your birthday."

I carry will downstairs. As we descend them, Peeta opens the door and steps aside to let Maysi enter, followed by Haymitch. Then Peeta comes in and shuts the door behind him. He's loaded down by a ring of keys in one hand and a cake in the other.

He must've baked the cake this morning at the bakery. From the angle I'm standing at, I can see the nearly perfect writing on top of the cake: Happy Birthday, Willard! Along the sides of the cake are icing pictures of alphabet blocks, elephants, and other childish things. The icing work could only have been done by Peeta. He must have told the two other bakery employees to back off for this job.

"Hey," Peeta says when he sees me. "You decided to stay after all." He begins walking toward the kitchen. "I told you I would," I say as I follow him.

When we reach the kitchen, he sets the cake down on the counter and turns back to me. "I know, but I thought you'd change your mind."

"Yeah, Peeta, I was going to leave our three-year-old at home by himself."

Peeta gives me a weary look. "I never know with you anymore, Katniss."

"What does that mean?" I demand, following him again as he walks around to the other side of the counter. He removes the plastic lid from the cake and removes a small pack of candles from one of the drawers beside him.

"Nothing," he says.

"You didn't just say it for no reason," I insist. "Go ahead. Say what's on your mind."

"I'm just tired, okay? It's been a long day, and there's still a few hours left to go. Let's just try to act like we're happy. For the kids."

"I've wanted to do that all along, but you continually say things like this to me. It's like you're intentionally making me feel bad about this. It's not my fault."

He looks up at me, his eyes crazed. "This is your fault, Katniss. Don't you dare try to tell me it's not. It certainly isn't mine."

"If you hadn't been so caught up in your bakery then it might not have happened!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he says, shifting to the defensive.

"I mean that if you hadn't caught the whole place on fire, Gale would never have come back!"

"Don't give me that, Katniss," he snarls. "You and I both know that he came back for an entirely different reason."

I freeze, snapping my mouth shut. My eyes widen in shock. He knows...

"I'm not stupid," he continues. "I know the entire story."

My shock hasn't yet dissipated, but somehow I manage to whisper, "You knew Prim was alive?"

The reaction he gives is the opposite of what I had expected. It takes a moment for the information to register with him. When it does, he is as speechless as I was upon my discovery. His mouth has dropped open ever so slightly and his eyes are wide from bewilderment.

Footsteps are approaching the kitchen, but neither of us move. Haymitch enters the room to find us frozen and staring at each other.

"What the hell happened in here?" Haymitch asks. He confusedly looks between the two of us. Peeta and I remain silent, so he demands, "Well?"

Peeta shakes his head as if to erase what just happened from his mind. Then he clears his throat and says, "Nothing. It's nothing. We were just-"

"Arguing over whose turn it is to do the dishes," I finish for him. "It's not a big deal."

Haymitch narrows his eyes in suspicion. "Really? Because that didn't sound like a silly fight over the dishes."

I exchange a glance with Peeta. He gives me a small nod, telling me to tell the truth. But before I can, Haymitch speaks again.

"Is it about the cousin?" he asks.

My cousin. That must mean Gale. Of course, Haymitch knows that Gale isn't my cousin. But it's a story that was created after I was crowned as victor of the 74th Hunger Games. The reporters were doing news stories about my home life and they needed to interview my friends and family. When asked if I had any close friends, everyone directed them to Gale. But he was too young, too attractive, too male. It didn't fit. People wouldn't have bought the story of me and Peeta being in love if they knew I had a friend as handsome as Gale back home. So someone made up the "cousins" story.

I shift my weight to my right and click my tongue to express my uncomfortability. From the corner of my eye, I see Peeta give me another nod. Tell the truth.

"Yeah," I say. "Yeah, it was about him."

Haymitch rubs his hands together twice, then clasps them together. "I figured as much. Sit down. We have talking to do."

Peeta and I sit down next to each other at the table. Haymitch sits across from us.

"Where are the kids?" I ask.

Haymitch flicks his hand into the air carelessly. "They're occupied. Don't worry about it. But let's get down to business. The reunion is in less than a week. Five days from tomorrow, actually. Do you know what that means?"

Peeta and I exchange a glance. Neither of us know.

"That means that you," Haymitch points a finger at me, "need to choose your date."

When I don't say anything, Peeta lets out a sad yet disgusted laugh. "Why do we have to discuss it? I already know it's not me."

"Well, it's not Gale," I say.

His look has turned incredulous. "It isn't me either, though."

If I go with Peeta, it will only embarrass him. It would make him look weak, and thus make myself intolerable. But I can't go with Gale; he has no intentions of going to the reunion at all.

It happened last night, as I was dozing off beside him. I had long since lost the energy to be angry with him that night. I knew I couldn't go back home though, not at that late hour. I would wake my entire family if I tried. So I laid on the opposite side of the bed than Gale, facing the wall instead of him. He was laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling, deep in reverie but wide awake. Suddenly, he turned to me and spoke.

"Maybe you shouldn't go," he said quietly.

"What?"

"To the reunion. I thought about it and I don't think you should go."

I sit up and face him, my heart rate rising in relation to my increasing irritation. "Why not?" I demanded.

"I just - it's not safe. Not now. And don't you remember Johanna's warning?"

I scowled at him. "Johanna's going, though."

"That's because she's in the game, she's a spy on the inside. But you're not. Nothing about this is safe."

"Part of what game?" I demanded. My voice became stern. He didn't answer. "What game, Gale? Who is she spying on? What's going on?"

"I can't tell you that, Katniss, you have to trust me."

"How can I trust you when you've given me no reason to?" I said. As soon as the words flew from my mouth, I wanted to take them back. But a different side of me was glad I said them. I wanted to let him know how much he had hurt me and how badly he had severed the ties of trust that I had in him.

My question, though rhetorical, took him aback. His mouth gaped open at me. Finally, his speechlessness turned to anger. "I told you, it's dangerous for you to know what you know."

"Yeah, but you haven't told me why."

"I told you why, Katniss! They were after Prim. She wasn't supposed to live!"

"There's no one after her anymore, Gale! Don't you get that? The war that you and I fought is over. The peace that we fought for is here. There's no one after her anymore. Snow is dead and Coin is dead. No one can hurt me anymore."

"You don't get it. There's no way for you to."

"Get what?" I shouted. "It seems to me that you're getting too much. It's like you're paranoid! Like you want there to be danger so you can step in and be some kind of a hero! But there's no one against us anymore."

He put his head in his hands then. I waited a moment for him to think and used the time to calm myself down. When he looked back at me, he had cooled down a bit. "Go if you want to. I don't care. But I wasn't invited and I'm not going with you."

So with Gale out of the question, my only other option is to go to the reunion with Peeta.

"No, I want to go with you," I say.

Peeta and Haymitch both appear surprised.

"Go with Gale, Katniss. Really," Peeta insists.

"And what are you going to do if she does?" Haymitch asks him. "Stand alone in the corner? That'll only confirm the rumors. Don't you want to shut them down?"

Peeta shrugs. "They're true. I'm not going to keep up a perfect marriage act for a week just so I can come back here and be stabbed in the back."

My expression becomes pained when I see his look of indifference. It feels as if I am the one being stabbed in the back now. Peeta has become immune to me. I know longer cause him pain. Or if I do, he has learned to conceal it. For some reason, this stings more than it does to see him hurt as he has for the past week.

"Besides," Peeta continues, "someone has to stay home with the kids."

"They're staying with Katniss's mother," Haymitch informs him. "You need to go. Maybe it'll clear the air between the two of you."

Peeta refuses to meet my restless, anxiety-driven eyes. I can't help but wonder if we'll go on like this forever. Living together, raising two children together, but rarely speaking. Avoiding each other as much as possible. Acting as if the other doesn't exist unless their presence is forced upon us. Both of us know it shouldn't end this way. We shouldn't end this way.

"Peeta," I say, my eyes pleading with him, "go with me. We need this."

He takes one, repulsed look at me, slides his chair back, and stands. "No, Katniss. You need this." Then he starts toward the hallway.

"So does that mean you're going?" Haymitch calls after him.

"Yeah. I'll go." He turns to leave again, but stops. "Oh, and one more thing, Katniss."

I turn my attention fully to him. "Yeah?"

"Don't try to keep me in the dark. Be honest."

Those few words leave me positive that he must know. There's no way he couldn't. Not with the way he's acted since I found out about Prim. The only question is, how does he know?

* * *

 **A/N: In this chapter, I tried to answer a few of your questions. A lot of people have asked about Katniss's reaction to the Prim thing. This will definitely be explained and made up for in future chapters. I agree that she's a little OOC, but there's a big big big reason for it!**

 **By the way, thank you guys SO much for getting me to almost 215 reviews! This has been such a roller coaster of a story and I'm amazed that so many people like it. I love all of you so much :)**

 **As always, please leave any questions, thoughts, or theories in your reviews! I try to answer everyone's questions by PMing them. If I don't answer yours, it's either because the answer might be a spoiler or it's going to be answered in the story very soon.**


	21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

Peeta and I have managed to keep up our happily married act for three days, going on four. Except for me and Peeta's heated conversation with Haymitch, Will's birthday went by without a hitch. Maysi was overjoyed by Haymitch's presence, as she always is. Will is learning to appreciate him, too. I think my old mentor gives them the same oddly safe feeling that he's always given me.

Anyway, we ate cake, opened birthday presents, and spent time with the kids until well past their bedtime. We only dialed down once Haymitch decided it was time for him to go, but he ended up staying the night in our downstairs guest bedroom when he looked outside and noticed how deep the snow had gotten.

The past three days have been a breeze. Every morning, the kids have gone to school and Peeta has gone to the bakery. And every afternoon, I take them home and Peeta comes home from work a few hours later. There is no mention of Gale. I haven't seen him since the night I spent with him and I haven't spoken to him since I bailed on the second night we planned together, which was Will's birthday. There is also no mention of Prim, who Peeta must know about. How much does he know? I can't say. I haven't brought her up since our argument, though.

Today is Thursday. The train for the Capitol is leaving tomorrow morning. Peeta didn't go in to the bakery today because he wanted to help me pack for the trip.

"What time is it?" Peeta shouts from downstairs, where he's probably still fishing around in the coat closet.

"Barely past noon," I call back. He doesn't say anything else, so I resume my packing. Technically, I don't need to pack much. We'll have stylists to take care of wardrobe, hair, and makeup while we're in the Capitol.

For the duration of the trip, we'll be staying in the old Training Center. Each district floor has more than enough bedrooms for the prep teams, stylists, mentor, district escort, and tributes. Since only past victors will be attending this get-together, there will be plenty of room for each victor to stay on their district floor. For some, such as the Careers who take pride in their victory, this return to their pre-Games living quarters will be nostalgic and exciting. But for those of us who dread even the mention of the Games, it will become a cause for more nightmares.

Since there are only three living victors from District 12, I will be staying on the twelfth floor in the Training Center building along with Peeta and Haymitch.

I try to think through who else will be there, where will they be staying, and with who. Johanna will be on the District 7 floor. I don't know of any other victors that are coming from her district. Annie will be on the District 4 floor with the other victors from her district, including an elderly woman named Muscida and a woman in her late twenties named Saller. On the District 1 floor will be a pair of twins, Silver and Silvia, and a middle-aged man named Opal. Leave it to District 1 to name their children such shiny names. A monstrous man named Quake from District 2. Beetee from District 3. An extremely smart technician named Anun from District 5. A highly-sexualized woman named Basa from District 9 who earned fame and gained sponsors by having sex with nearly every boy in the arena. That was a particularly disastrous year because the Gamemakers never exactly planned for something like that. They had to censor out so much footage of her that she was barely ever shown.

What Games did all these people win? Silver and Silvia from District 1 are twins. Silver won the 71st Games at thirteen years old and Silvia won the 72nd Games at fourteen years old. The odds clearly were not in their family's favor. They remind me a lot of Cashmere and Gloss, a brother and sister duo who were also from District 1, but were killed in the third Quarter Quell. Anyway, both Silver and Silvia had an almost uncanny talent for throwing knives. Opal, also from District 1, was in the 44th Games when he was sixteen. I don't know much about him, but he's sixty-one years old and a friend of Haymitch's. He turned to alcohol too not longer after winning. Quake won the 68th Games when he was only twelve years old. At such a young age, the odds were stacked firmly against him, but he won from the simple fact that he was the biggest tribute there, as well as a Career. Muscida from District 4 won the 17th Hunger Games and Saller, from the same district, won the year before I did. I don't know much about the others. Basa from District 9 won the 69th Hunger Games at the age of fifteen. She befriended boy tributes by seducing them, then killed them after using them. Then she won in a final battle against a girl from District 2.

In a little more than twenty-four hours, I'll be in a room with all of these victors and then some. But first, I have to survive the train ride to the Capitol. Fortunately, the only people that will be riding the train with me are Peeta and Haymitch, unless Gale changes his mind. But I know he won't. He's too stubborn. He still hates the Capitol even though the war is over and has been for years. He still wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near it.

I am just finishing up packing my things when Peeta comes in the room. I zip my luggage bag shut before turning towards him.

"I'm not ready," he says when he has my attention.

"I'm not either," I admit. "I don't know anyone."

"Well, we do know a few people. But that's not what I'm worried about. I just don't want to be there in that train, and in those rooms... I don't want to be in the Capitol at all." His voice cracks during the last sentence. I see him struggling to maintain his strength, but he's barely managing it. So when tears begin to slip down his cheeks, I'm not surprised.

I walk towards him without any idea what I'm going to do when I reach him. At first, I stand there, unsure whether my comfort is desired. I tentatively hold out my arms to him. He is as hesitant as I am, but embraces me nonetheless.

"Shouldn't I be the one comforting you?" he murmurs into my hair.

"We're comforting each other," I reply, my ear against his chest.

We hold each other for a while longer, then he steps back. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," I say. "They can't hurt you anymore."

"I know. It's just the memories of it."

We share a long, meaningful look. Then he looks away and leaves the room without another word, and I know he must be thinking of the lies that the Capitol forced inside his brain about me.

It's Friday morning. December 11, to be exact. Today, Peeta and I will board the train that will take us to the Capitol. We're expected to arrive in the Capitol tomorrow afternoon.

This morning, I woke up to find my mother, Maysi, and Will playing on the floor in Maysi's bedroom. I stood in the doorway for a few minutes, silently watching them.

"Hi," I said finally.

My mother looked up at me with a huge smile. "Hi, Katniss. Peeta called me a few hours ago. He said I should go ahead and come over."

"Why?" I asked.

"He said that the two of you would want plenty of time for goodbyes at the train station, so it would be smart for you to leave earlier."

I sighed, irritated already. "I wish he had told me that."

"Go easy on him, sweetie. He has a lot to deal with right now."

I rolled my eyes at her in utter annoyance. "No more than what I have to deal with."

Then I left the room and walked downstairs to find Peeta, reading a book and drinking hot tea. He had his dark brown, rectangular reading glasses on his face. When he heard he enter, he looked at me from over the top of his glasses frames.

"Good morning," he greeted in a cheerful voice.

I decides to skip the greetings and jump straight into the topic of trouble. "Why is my mother here?" I asked.

"I thought that we could leave early enough for you to say goodbye to Gale," he replied innocently.

"Well, you were wrong," I said. "He's not coming."

"Do you need to talk about it?" Peeta asked, standing and following me to the pantry.

"There's nothing to talk about. He's just not coming. So don't waste your time." When I turned around, I saw Peeta's disbelieving stare. "What?"

"He loves you, Katniss. He'll be there. And if he doesn't, then spending a week without you won't be as easy as he thinks."

"That's nice of you to say, but it's not helping anything. Besides, I haven't seen him in five days already. He won't have a problem keeping that up."

"Was it because you didn't want to see him or because he doesn't want to see you?" Peeta asked.

I opened my mouth to say something back, but there was no reply. I didn't know what was happening, but I was drifting away from Gale.

That's why I am shocked now, as Peeta and I walk to the train station, to see Gale standing behind the roped-off boarding area. He hasn't seen me yet, so I keep quiet.

"I told you he'd be here," Peeta mutters.

"About what you said earlier... I didn't want to see him," I say.

"Why not?" he asks. He seems genuinely concerned for the wellness of me and Gale's relationship, but I can see through it. Somehow, he knows what's gone wrong. He has brought up Prim more than a few times since last week when I found out about Gale's relationship with her. That can't be a coincidence, can it?

Even if it is just a coincidence, I'd rather not fuel his supposed concern. So I lie - something I've found myself doing a lot lately - and say, "I've been busy."

Peeta doesn't look like he believes my story, but he dismisses it anyway. About this time, my eyes lock with Gale's and any amount of displeasure I had for him vanished. He is still several yards away, but we close the distance quickly. He stands from the bench he was sitting on and walks towards me. Then he stops and holds out his arms, which I am jumping into mere seconds later. He holds me while I kiss him, my hands on either side of his face. Then he puts me back on the ground, where we smile at each other. Two people, madly in love.

I shake my head suddenly to clear it. No, no, we're not madly in love. Where did that thought come from? We love each other, but in love? My feelings aren't set in stone yet.

"What's wrong?" Gale asks, observing my confusion.

"Nothing," I say. Then I smile to cover up whatever doubt I gave him about the authenticity of my reaction to seeing him. "I missed you."

He smiles back at me. "I missed you too, Catnip."

Gale's focus is pulled away by someone standing behind me. I turn my head to find that it's Peeta. I let go of Gale and stand at his side so I am facing my husband. Peeta is desperately trying to mask the repulsed look he is pointing at Gale. I look down at my feet, feeling tense from the atmosphere around me.

"I'm sorry," I say to no one in particular.

"Why?" Gale and Peeta ask in unison. They stare each other down briefly, fighting an unspoken battle that I don't understand. Then they both look back at me for an answer, but I shake my head. There isn't one to give.

There's a loud clatter behind us. I spin around to find that, upon his arrival at the train station, Haymitch has tripped over a potted shrub and knocked it over, causing the pot to shatter.

"Haymitch," I groan as I go over to him. I squat beside him and pick up the broken pieces of the pot. Meanwhile, Peeta and Gale each lend a hand to pull him to his feet.

"Thanks, guys," Haymitch says. He brushes dirt from his pants. That's when I see the outline of the flash in his pocket.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask.

He looks surprised, or as surprised as a loopy Haymitch can get. "No. Why?" I point at his left front pocket. He pats around the outside of the pocket until he feels it. Then he reaches in and pulls out the flask. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh," Peeta says. "Do you want to explain yourself or should I just take it?"

Haymitch sighs. "You do understand that I'm an adult and the two of you are children?"

"I'm thirty-one, Haymitch," I say.

Haymitch raises his eyebrows and laughs. "Wow, you got old fast." He starts to tip the flask to his mouth but Peeta snatches it away from him.

"Hey!"

Peeta's eyes narrow. "You're getting too mouthy."

"And you're getting too strict," Haymitch retorts, reaching over to take his flask back. He drinks one large mouthful from it and then throws it into the pile of broken pieces of pot, where it lands with a clang! Then he wipes his mouth on his shirt sleeve. "That was refreshing after a long day of bullcrap."

"It's still morning," Gale points out.

Haymitch narrows his eyes at Gale, his head bobbling a little from unsteadiness. "Way to be a pessimist."

Peeta and I exchange weary glances. This is going to be a long train ride. At that moment, I hear the loud cluttering of the train on its tracks. Luckily, the four of us are the only people present when the train pulls into place at the station. Clearly no one else was interested in seeing us off.

Gale pulls me into his arms and hugs me tightly. "Be careful," he whispers in my ear.

"I will," I whisper back.

"Promise?"

I nod and pull back from him. His gaze catches mine and holds it. I try to memorize his eyes so I can't forget them. Deep and gray, with the smallest bit of a dull blue hue to them. They're like tunnels. Deep enough for me to get lost in. And I do, quite frequently. They're absolutely beautiful. It's amazing how quickly I can get over my anger at him when he simply looks at me.

Kind of like how Peeta softens when he looks at you, a voice in my mind whispers. I blink quickly several times to clear away the voice, startled by it. Of course, I would be made the bad guy today, and by my own brain.

I turn my attention back to Gale, trying to forget everyone around me. He leans forward and kisses me, his hands holding my face in place the way he always does. I kiss back willingly and try losing myself in it, but I can't. Not when I'm sure that Peeta is behind me, watching. Gale's kiss is getting increasingly hungrier and needier. But I have become still.

He lets go without warning, his eyes boring worried holes into mine. "What's wrong?" he asks again.

I can't tell him what's really wrong. He can't know how guilty I feel when I'm in a room with both him and Peeta. He can't know how horrible it is to have feelings for two people, but to only be able to express those feelings to one of them because the other person is too damaged by the whole thing. It's so complicated and immoral. Nothing about this is right. So I lie.

"I'm just going to miss you," I say.

He gives me a sad smile. "I'll miss you, too, Catnip," he says.

Then he kisses me again, bringing back the dirty, guilty feeling in my gut. But I can't avoid the enjoyment from the kiss, so I kiss back, somewhat greedily. He's not entirely mine, but I want him to be.

"Goodness!" a woman exclaims from behind us. Gale and I break apart and find Effie Trinket, nearly unrecognizable but still shining in all of her Capitol glory, standing in the open door of the train. "So it is true," she gasps. She stares at us for a few seconds longer, then waves her hand in the air in dismissal. "Well, the two of you make a _excellent_ pair. Just _precious_."

Gale rolls his eyes at Effie, then looks back to me. "I guess this is goodbye, then," he says.

"You act like you're never going to see me again," I laugh. The serious look on Gale's face erases the humor from mine. "I'll be back in a week."

"What if you aren't?" Gale asks. "What if you don't come back?"

"I'll be back, Gale, don't say things like that. I don't know what you're so afraid of."

He doesn't answer. Instead, he leans forward and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. "I love you," he murmurs.

The panic that rushes through every part of my body at the sound of those words sends my heart rate flying. I do love him. I do. But I can't say it back. Not with Peeta standing less than ten feet away. Not with the bugs that are most likely planted in every corner of this train station.

So I say the words that I swore I would never say to him again - not in this context, at least. They leap from the tip of my tongue before I can stop them: "I know."

He takes a step back from me, releasing his hold on me. His reply is in a low enough tone that no one but me can hear him. "You don't have to feel the same, Katniss. Just don't pretend like you do."

And then he's walking through the glass door to the main building of the train station, and I'm watching after him like a lonely puppy, my mouth open and my eyes wide with fear.

What have I done? The moment the words exit my mouth, I know I should've told him that I love him back. Because I do. Don't I?

At this point, I feel so confused that I'm not sure anymore. There's no time for me to worry about Gale, though, as Effie waves us forward to board the train. As soon as we're inside, I give a shudder of remembrance. The train looks just the same as it always has.

Haymitch immediately heads to the table in the corner that has several different alcoholic beverages to choose from. He takes a bottle of white liquor and settles down on a couch on the other end of the car. The same couch where Peeta and I first met him. It seems like that was only yesterday, not fifteen years ago. Peeta and I exchange a wary looks as we watch our old mentor open the bottle and take a long swig from it. Haymitch stopped drinking when he knew he didn't have to think about the Games anymore. Now he's started back again, knowing that everything that happens this week is a reminder of what the Capitol put us through for so many years.

Once the door to the train has closed, a voice comes over the speaker in the ceiling.

"Hi. Welcome to your Capitol Train, powered by TransportMe Inc. Your estimated arrival time with be," at this point the woman's pleasant, smooth voice becomes robotic, "Saturday, December 12 at 3:30 p.m." Then her normal voice returns. "Have a nice trip!"

We all stand silently for a few seconds while we think about the new addition to the train ride.

Peeta is the first to comment. "That's new," he says.

"Yes," Effie replies. "TransportMe Inc. took over every train in Panem shortly after the Capitol's reign ended. One of the districts, I'm not sure which, is home to the company. Anyway, they thought it'd be nice to add a touch of hospitality. And I can't say that I disagree."

Peeta nods without saying anything else. In the silence, Effie studies us carefully. I pretend not to notice and I'm sure Peeta is doing the same. When she's done with her observations, she opens her arms and hugs both of us at the same time.

"I missed you both dearly," she cries out. "You have no idea how lonely it can be up there!"

"Up where?" I ask.

"In the Capitol, of course!" she says. "And goodness, have the two of you grown! How old are you now? Forty? Forty-five?"

My eyes narrow until I'm full-on glaring at her. Peeta catches the glint of anger in my eye and speaks up before I can say anything I'll regret later. "They have a lot of plastic surgery in the Capitol, remember, Katniss? Everyone looks younger than they really are. Like the sixty-year-olds look like they're forty."

Translation: Take it easy on her. She didn't mean it to offend you. She's from the Capitol, she can't control her tongue.

I slowly let my guard back down and allow my face to relax. "Sorry," I mutter.

"We're both thirty-one, Effie," Peeta answers.

"Oh, goodness! Speaking of plastic surgery, the two of you might want to look into some!"

I clench my teeth together. Her endless chatter about all things useless is helping me remember why I hate the people in the Capitol so much. Not Effie, who is tolerable at best, but everyone else.

Peeta, who has his arm around me now, pinches my arm. It doesn't hurt, but it's enough to reiterate his previous point. Don't take it out on her. She doesn't know any better.

I change the subject to avoid any further anger-inducing comments from Effie. "I didn't know you were coming, Effie."

"Oh, I wouldn't miss it for the world! An opportunity to meet my beloved victors and their... er... drunk mentor again? I wasn't going to let you go without me! And between you and me," she leans in towards Peeta and I, "I don't think you'd be able to keep on schedule if it weren't for me. Your mentor seems a bit out of practice with this."

Sure enough, Haymitch has already passed out on the couch. Peeta, Effie, and I laugh quietly at him, sprawled across the cushions with the liquor bottle in hand, though it's about to tip over and spill on the floor.

We spend the rest of the day lightly snacking on finger foods in between large, multiple-course meals of various Capitol delicacies. For lunch, the main course is grilled salmon, which can only be obtained from the ocean bordering District 4. For supper, we have lamb chops surrounded by white rice and covered in a thick, creamy, white gravy. Our meals together consist of friendly chat between Peeta, Effie, and I.

After supper, the three of us - unaccompanied by Haymitch, who was carried to his bed in mid-afternoon by some attendees - watch old television programs from about a century or two ago.

"You know, these are called sitcoms," Effie informs us about halfway through the first one. "They're comedies that you can sit through in your own home, hence the name. They came on television back before your grandparents and great-grandparents were born!"

Peeta carried on a short conversation with her after her fun fact intervention. Meanwhile, I watched the show and kept to myself. Around ten o'clock, I began to get a little tired.

"I think I'm going to go to bed," I announce as I rise to my feet.

Effie and Peeta look up at me, eyes wide from a particularly interesting conversation I just interrupted.

"Oh," Peeta says. "Okay. Do you need me to come with you?"

"No, I'll be fine," I reply.

Effie looks between us awkwardly. "Um, we didn't discuss sleeping arrangements, did we?"

"It's fine," I say.

Effie waves her hand. "No, no, I insist. I'll have an attendee come and clean up a room for you right away. It won't take but a few extra minutes."

"Really, Effie, I'll be fine. I can sleep with Peeta. It's okay."

Effie seems surprised that I have settled for a bedroom with him. She hesitates before saying, "But I thought the two of you were - splitting up." She pauses near the end for emphasis, and gives a melodramatic gasp at the end.

"No, it's not like that," Peeta says. "We're fine, Effie. We're happy."

"Oh! Well, I guess it's true that you can't always listen to what the elephant says about the butterfly." We look at her, confused, but she doesn't catch it.

We're uncomfortably silent for another few seconds before Peeta says, "Maybe it's time for us all to get to bed."

Effie seems enlightened by his suggestion. "Yes, you're right, Peeta! After all, we have a big, big, big day ahead of us!" Then she shuffles out of the room, her high heeled shoes click-clacking across the floor. "Goodnight, my loves!" she calls out behind her.

"Goodnight, Effie," Peeta and I call back in unison. Then we turn to each other and laugh.

"Glad to see she hasn't lost her enthusiasm," Peeta says.

"Not a single bit of it," I reply.

We let our laughter die out into silence.

"I can sleep in one of the other rooms if you want me to," Peeta offers. "I mean, I would understand."

"I don't want you to," I say.

His eyebrows furrow. "You don't?"

"I wasn't kidding when I told Effie it was okay. I want you to stay tonight."

His eyes try to coax something out of mine. Hidden emotions, deeper thoughts, my true feelings about him. But I read like an open book. He should know that I truly want him with me.

"Come on," I say. "One of the attendees showed me to my room earlier."

Ten minutes later, we have unpacked the few belongings we felt necessary to unpack during our brief stay on the train and have climbed under the sheets in the bed.

I turn onto my left side and face him, and he turns on his right. He props himself up on his elbow and watches at me wordlessly.

"What?" I say after a while. My eyes search his.

"Nothing. You're just absolutely beautiful," he says quietly. Then he reaches up with one hand to brush a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

I catch his hand with mine before he can move it away. This surprises him into looking at me with his full attention. "I love you, Peeta," I say.

He closes his eyes and for a moment, he looks almost like the boy I allowed into my bed in this very room, on this very train, fourteen years ago.

"Katniss..." He drops his hand from my grasp. "Don't do this."

"Do what?" I ask.

"Let's not pretend, okay? Just... just be honest. You promised you'd be honest."

"I am being honest. I love you."

He closes his eyes, but his lids wrinkle and I know he's in pain. "No. You can't tell him you love him and then come back to me and say the same thing."

"I didn't, though," I say. "He said he loved me. I couldn't say it back."

Peeta still doesn't seem to believe me. To me, there has only ever been one way to prove your love and devotion to someone. It's through actions, not words. Peeta knows this about me, so he is not surprised when my leg tangles itself with his under the sheets. I grab the front of his shirt and pull myself closer to him, closer to the relationship I need to have with him.

I press my lips to his, firmly at first, then increasingly gentler. He pulls away first.

"Katniss, what's wrong with you?" he asks, breathing heavily.

"Nothing," I reply and lean in to kiss him again. He pushes me away again before I can touch him.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No, why?"

"Because you don't act like this to me. Not in a long time, you haven't."

"What does that have to do with drinking?"

"Liquid courage."

"Peeta, please," I beg. "You have to trust me." My eyes lock his in place. They plead with him to listen, to let me prove my words.

Peeta sighs and I know that he is giving in. Nothing else needs to be said. So I kiss him and this time, he kisses back.

The problem is, I've done the same thing with Gale. And you need only look to see where that relationship has gone.

* * *

 **A/N: I know that all of you Galeniss fans are probably mad about the ending of this chapter, but it was for a reason. There are things happening that are all go into a big storyline that you all haven't uncovered yet, so please trust that I know what I'm doing! This WILL be Galeniss, but obviously Katniss isn't going to be able to let go of Peeta that fast. I find it extremely unrealistic when I read fanfics where Katniss up and drops Peeta like he's yesterday's newspaper. So that's why I'm making this different. It's an internal battle for her. (P.S. There's a pretty big Galeniss realization happening in chapter 24 and something even bigger happening in chapter 25!)**

 **As always, please remember to review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: I don't believe in author's notes at the beginning of chapters, but I wanted to assure everyone that Galeniss is happening sooner than you think. Hold out just one more chapter until 24!**

* * *

CHAPTER 22

My eyelids flutter open to the sound of Peeta's soft voice. "Hey, sleepy."

"Hey," I say back, smiling. I stretch widely and then curl back against his bare chest. I notice the strangely bright light shining through the train windows and look at Peeta in confusion. "What time is it?"

He smiles down at me and strokes my hair away from my face. "Half past eleven."

"I slept the entire morning?" I ask, surprised. "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Well, we were up pretty late," he says with a small laugh. "I figured you would want your sleep."

I smile at him. His blue eyes are brighter than I've seen them in a long time. I give him a long, dragging kiss. When I pull away, I can't help but giggle at his pleased expression. "I love you," I say.

"I love you, too," he says back. He plants a kiss on my nose. "I forgot how beautiful you are in the mornings. You're glowing."

I have to look down to hide my blush. "Where are we?" I ask him.

"Passing through District 1. I think we'd better get to brunch. Effie might come in to wake us, and then we'd be embarrassed."

My blush deepens. "You're the one who has half his clothes off."

"I have pants on, thank you."

He laughs. "I know." He gives me one last look before saying, "Come on. Really, I don't want them coming in here with us like this."

I sigh and reluctantly drag myself out of the bed. "What do we do?" I ask. "Do we pull the 'I'll leave and you leave a few seconds later,' or are we owning it?"

He grins. "I think we'll own it."

So once both of us have showered, dressed, and cleaned up, we walk to the dining car hand-in-hand. The attendees see us first and ask us if we'd like a plate. Peeta and I both accept. The sound of us loading our plates brings Effie and Haymitch out of whatever conversation they were having. We sit down across next to them.

"Well, if it isn't the star-crossed lovers from District Twelve," Haymitch says with a smirk. From what I can tell, he hasn't started drinking yet this morning. Instead, he has a mug of coffee that he's holding tightly with both hands.

"Yes," Effie pipes in, clicking her tongue in disapproval. Her eyes fall upon me and Peeta's intertwined fingers resting on the table. "I assume it was the two of you that kept me awake all night."

Peeta and I exchange mortified looks. I am at a loss for words, but Peeta steps up to the plate as usual. "You must've been hearing the train tracks. I hear they get rougher around District 8."

Effie shakes her head. "I know what I heard," she disagrees.

Haymitch plants his elbows firmly on the table and leans on them. He waves his fork at Effie carelessly. "Let the kids have some fun, now. Haven't you ever had somebody that made you feel all... tingly?"

Haymitch's comment, though appreciated, makes me bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Firstly because it's doubtful that Haymitch has ever been in a relationship that he could compare ours to. And secondly because the word "tingly" wasn't what anyone had in mind. I cast a sideways glance in Peeta's direction and see that he is finding just as much humor in it as I am.

Effie clears her throat and wipes her mouth on her napkin, then places it back in her lap. "I'll have you know that I am not interested in relations with anyone."

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Why does that not surprise me?" Then he turns back to Peeta and I. "But it's to my understanding that you two had a good night?" I shoot him my deadliest glare, to which he guffaws. "All you have to do is answer yes or no."

"Yeah, sure, it was fine," I say quickly.

Peeta joins in the rounds of laughter this time. Haymitch begins pounding one of his fists on the table and crumpling his napkin tightly in the other fist.

"It's not funny," I mumble, my face turning red.

"Why do you get embarrassed talking about it? It happens," says Peeta.

"Yeah, but you aren't supposed to talk about it!"

"If you don't want to talk about it then don't do it where everybody else can hear it!" Haymitch suggests.

I take one last look between the two of them - my husband and my mentor, a pathetic pair of grown men laughing at the indirect mention of sex - and stomp off to my room. And it's a good thing I left too, because then I am rushing to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting. It's nothing of substance, which worries me because I've been eating much more than usual. Wouldn't food come up to show for it?

I peak my head through the bedroom door in search of an unoccupied attendee. When I find one, I wave him over.

"Yes, Mrs. Mellark?" the attendee says.

"Um, I got sick a few minutes ago. I'm not sure what you want to do about it."

"Okay, I'll handle it."

I follow the attendee back to the bathroom. He cleans up and sanitizes everything that I've touched. When he's done, he places the back of his hand across my forehead. "It doesn't feel like a fever. Perhaps it's the food."

"I thought so, too," I say. He tells me to let him know if I begin to feel ill again. Before he leaves, he suggests that I lie down for a while, which I readily agree to.

Once he's gone, I get comfortable under the thick comforter of the bed and sleep for three more hours before Peeta comes to wake me up with the announcement that we've reached the Capitol.

"Already?" I ask him. I glance across the room at the clock and realize that it's around the time estimated for us to arrive. "How much time until we get to the Training Center?"

Before Peeta can answer me, Effie bursts into the room with her never-fading energy. "Twenty minutes until the Training Center! Get up and dressed, Katniss. But nothing too fancy; you'll have a stylist who will handle that for you."

"A stylist?" I ask, raising my eyebrows.

"Yes, dear. You didn't think I would allow you, the biggest celebrity in Panem, to attend the biggest event of the decade without looking the part?"

I roll my eyes. Of course, she wouldn't. It should've been expected that Effie would go all out this week.

"Is a shirt and denim okay?" I ask her.

She wrinkles her nose in disgust but nods. "Yes, I suppose that will be fine for now. But expect to change immediately once we get there."

Peeta and I wait until she's gone before we begin mocking her.

"Leave it to Effie," he says, shaking his head. "I guess we'd better get ready."

I choose a pair of dark denim pants and a dark green shirt with long, fitted sleeves. I have almost decided to wear my hair as is - straight down my back with nothing special done to it - when I look in the mirror and realize that to the people in the Capitol, I will be unrecognizable. So I braid my hair down my right shoulder in the same style as I wore it as a teenager.

"Is this okay?" I ask Peeta.

He looks up from the pile of shoes he's picking from. "You look great," he says. "The others will be a bit dressier, but you'll look simple and casual. It's perfect for you."

"Thanks."

Five minutes later, we are exiting the train. Stopped to unload in front of us are three more trains. One from District 9, one from District 8, and the last from District 7. I just manage to catch Johanna's swaying, dark brown ponytail in the distance.

"Johanna!" I shout as I speed off towards her. She turns when she hears her name. But instead of the smile I'm expecting, I receive a deep frown. I stop dead in my tracks and give her a confused look, to which she turns and walks away.

Peeta and the others have caught up to me by now and are standing behind me.

"What's up with her?" Peeta asks, a little breathless from the running.

"I don't know," I say.

"She's probably just tired from the trip," Effie says brightly. Then she glowers at me and Peeta. "As am I."

Effie begins click-clacking off after everyone else, heading in the direction of the Training Center two blocks away. Haymitch points after her. "Follow the leader."

Follow, we do. I'm in a state of near exhaustion by the time we reach the Training Center building.

"You okay?" Peeta asks me, taking my luggage bag from and carrying it with his free hand.

"Yeah, a little winded," I pant.

"I thought you were in better shape than this," he chuckles.

"I thought I was, too," I admit.

We take the glass elevator that amazed me during my first visit to the Capitol. As you shoot up into the sky, you can watch everyone on the first floor turn to the size of ants. To a girl who had only ridden in the old, rickety elevator in District 12's Justice Building twice - once to retrieve a medal for my father's death and the other time to say my goodbyes before my probable death - my awe was understandable.

Finally, after letting a few fellow passengers off at nearly each floor on our way up, the four of us reach the twelfth floor. We breathe a sigh of relief as we drop our heavy bags on the floor. Effie makes sure the door is shut behind us, Peeta and I stand and wonder what we're going to do first, and Haymitch immediately flings his luggage across the room and flops onto the couch for a nap.

"Wake me when the party starts," he says to us before he closes his eyes. As a last-ditch effort to back out of the social event, he adds, "or don't."

I start heading to the kitchen for a snack - I'm famished - but Effie trots over and slaps my arm. "No food!" she scolds.

"Why?" I ask.

"You don't want to look bloated tonight, do you?"

"I'm going to be eating tonight too, you know," I say.

"Yes, but your new stylist needs to be able to size you correctly. She should be here any minute now." At that moment, there is a knock on the door. Effie looks at me smugly before dashing over to open the door. "That must be them!"

"Them?" I mouth to Peeta. He rolls his eyes in response.

There is loud chatter and greetings between Effie and whoever is at the door. Then she invites them in. Right off the bat, I recognize Portia, Peeta's old stylist from the Games.

"Portia," he says, a smile spreading across his face. He goes over to her, where she has open arms waiting for him. "It's been so long."

I realize that Peeta will see his old stylist today, but I will never see mine again. Fresh tears gleam in my eyes as my memories of Cinna makes their presence known. I wipe my eyes quickly before anyone has a chance to witness my tears.

"Katniss!" Effie trills as she strides over to me. "I'd like you to meet Amanda."

The woman standing behind Effie steps into the open. But woman seems to be a bit too mature for her; girl would be the more appropriate word. I am taken aback by how familiar she looks.

"Amanda, this is Katniss," Effie continues, gesturing between the two of us. "Now, Katniss, Amanda may seem a little familiar to you."

I nod. "Definitely."

"Yes, well, that's because this is the niece of our beloved Cinna."

My jaw drops open. Cinna never mentioned his family to me and I suppose I never thought much of it. Seeing his niece in person is refreshing. She looks as much like Cinna as a tiger does a lion - one and the same, yet different.

"It's nice to meet you," she says. She holds out her hand to me and I take it. We give each other's arms a single shake. Then my hand drops back to my side limply. Hers, however, is placed on her hip with a confidence that I lack.

"Cinna never mentioned his family," I say. I mentally slap myself the moment the words come out. Great way to start, Katniss.

Amanda bites her upper lip and chuckles. "I'm not surprised," she admits.

"What?" I ask.

"My mother and uncle weren't the best of friends. They had very different views. On the Capitol, on the districts, on the Games, everything. She tried to keep my brother and I away from him, but by the time I turned fourteen I was old enough to see him without her permission. That was around the time he became your stylist."

"Oh," I say.

She laughs lightly, a joyful, melodious tinkling. "Now that you know my back story, do you trust me enough to make you up for tonight?"

"We'll give it a try," I say. We both laugh, causing the strange atmosphere of the room to lighten.

She leads me down two hallways until we reach a room that looks similar to the one where I first met Cinna. Windows on every wall, modern spa-style decor, and limited seating. Amanda sees my confused look and explains, "It's a newer addition to the Training Center."

I nod. "It looks like the room in the Remake Center."

"So I've been told," she replies. She points me to a table made of light-colored wood in the center of the room. "You can sit right there."

I sit on the table per her instruction and watch as she walks calmly around the large room. First, she removes a fuzzy, white robe from a clothes hanger hanging on the knob of a wardrobe made of the same wood the my table. She flips the robe over her forearm and continues around the room until she finds a large filing folder and a clipboard. Then she circles back around to me.

"You can go in there to put this on," she says, pointing to a pair of double doors made of a blurry glass. Then she hands me the robe.

"Thanks," I say.

Less than a minute later, I return wearing the robe. I sit back on the wooden table. Amanda is busy scribbling something on one of the papers clipped onto the clipboard. At first, I don't think notices that I've come back, but then she holds up a finger to symbolize that she'll be done in a moment. I wait patiently until she looks up.

"How long has it been since you were last sized?" she asks me. I stare at her in confusion, not understanding her question. "How long has it been since Cinna last took your measurements?"

"Like, for clothes size?"

"Yes."

"Um..." I have to think before I answer. Did he measure me again for the Quarter Quell? I don't remember. "Fifteen years, I think. Maybe fourteen."

"Okay, so the records aren't going to be right," she says, more to herself than to me. She starts writing again. "Do you know how much weight you've put on since then?"

I shake my head.

"Had any dramatic changes in appetite?"

I shake my head again.

"Been dieting?"

No.

"Working out?"

Not a chance.

"Had kids?"

I nod.

She looks up from her clipboard with a raised eyebrow. "How many?"

"Two," I reply.

She starts writing on her paper again, then she turns to the next page and clips the previous one at the back of the stack. "Okay, and how tall are you?"

"I don't know," I answer.

She clicks her pen twice, then circles something on her paper. "I'm assuming you don't know your shoe size either?"

I shake my head.

"Okay, so let's get all of those measurements. Then I'm going to leave you here. Your prep team will be here with you while I'm gone."

"Okay," I say.

As was promised, Amanda leaves after recording my "measurements," which consists of my height, weight, circumference of my waist and chest, length of my hair, and shoe size. Several minutes later, there's a knock on the door.

"It's open," I call out. I barely have a chance to finish speaking before the door is flung open and in runs my prep team - yes, my old prep team - loaded down with tweezers, razors, scissors, waxing strips, hair styling tools, and makeup.

"Katniss!" they yell all at once.

Venia and Octavia take small, running steps toward me in their pointy-toed high heels, while Flavius simply runs forward. They envelop me in a large hug consisting of all four of us.

"I can't breathe," I giggle.

When they release me, they're all smiles, just as I remember them.

"Oh, how we missed you!" Flavius exclaims. "And now we're finally allowed to make you beautiful again!"

"Oh, hush. She's already beautiful!" Venia says.

"Of course!" Octavia agrees. "There's just some problems with all this _hair_."

Flavius gasps. "Her hair! No, look at her eyelashes! And, goodness, those _lips_! Katniss, I gave you my best lip balm!"

"Lip balm doesn't last fourteen years, Flavius," I say.

"I suppose you're right," he says. "But never mind that. How do you explain your eyelashes?"

"What about them?"

"They're thinner."

"I didn't do anything to them," I say.

"Oh well, that's what extensions are for. Maybe they'll grow out in the next few days."

"Yes, maybe," I agree, knowing good and well that they won't.

When the complaints about the state of my hair, face, and body are finished, they begin working. Octavia begins filing my nails, which she says are in better condition than she's ever seen them. Venia runs a brush through my hair, which she has taken down from its braid. Flavius has begun a process that he calls "priming." He massages pea-sized amounts of white cream into my cheeks, then works it up my nose, across my temples, and then my chin. Then he takes another dab of it and swipes it across my eyelids, as well as above and below them. When he's done with that, he lets it set for several seconds.

"What's my look for tonight?" I ask them.

"Well, Amanda is surprisingly similar to Cinna," Flavius says. "She won't give us many details. But your makeup for tonight will be a smokey neutral."

"And your hair is yet to be decided," Venia adds. "But I'm dying to try out this new style - you'll love it, darling, it's called a fishtail - and I'm hoping she'll approve it!"

When they're finished, they leave the room to tell Amanda that they're done. Amanda enters not long after that. She carried a long dress bag hanging on a clothes hanger.

"What's that?" I ask, looking at the dress bag.

The corners of her mouth turn up to form a sly grin. "You'll see."

Ten minutes later, I have gotten dressed. The prep team has returned to do final touch-ups to my makeup and for Venia to style my hair. Apparently, Amanda told her that she can try out her new hairstyle.

When all hands have been removed from my face, hair, and body, I ask, "Can I look now?"

"Yes," says Amanda. "There's a mirror behind you."

Carefully, I step down from the chair I have been sitting in. Then I turn slowly and open my eyes. In the mirror, I find myself looking the prettiest I've looked in a long, long time.

"Wow," I whisper.

I am dressed in a long red dress made of satin. It has a V-neckline and long sleeves. My skin glows in the illumination it receives from the fiery dress. My eyebrows have almost entirely been recreated because Venia wasn't satisfied with them. My lips are covered in bright red lipstick. My eyelashes are black. Most of my eyelid is coated with a shadow the color of my skin, but it darkens until it reaches the outer part of my eyelid.

"I smoked it out at the edges and into your lash line so it looked neutral but sexy," Flavius explains.

And sexy, it is. I am confident that, despite my age, I look as radiant as I did the last time I was being show-horsed around the Capitol.

"Wow," Peeta says when he sees me. "You look amazing."

"Thanks," I say. I straighten the orange-and-red striped tie he's wearing. "You look handsome."

"It's only to complement you," he replies with a grin. Then he pulls me forward for a kiss.

"You got lipstick on your mouth!" I laugh when he releases me. I attempt to wipe the lipstick from his mouth with my hand, but it doesn't work. "It's not coming off."

"It's fine, Portia can remove it," he says. "It feels funny, though."

"The lipstick?"

"No, the mouth-rubbing thing." He laughs uncomfortably and I join in. "Sorry, did I make it weird?"

"It's okay. I'll bet it does feel funny."

Just then Effie comes leaping in, wearing an orange wig similar to the one she wore on our Victory Tour so many years ago. "Are we all ready to go?"

Peeta and I look around for Haymitch. He's nowhere to be found.

"Your mentor isn't here, is he?" Effie says. She searches the room and even goes to search his room, but he's missing. "His stylist probably took him somewhere to get those horrible eyebrows waxed. She certainly wouldn't have been able to handle them herself. We'll go ahead and leave. He can catch up later."

Haymitch comes stumbling in from the dining room before we can start moving to the door. "Sorry. Had to get it." He holds up a bottle of liquor.

Effie, Peeta, and I meet each other's worried eyes. Haymitch isn't doing so well. We pretend to ignore it, though, and leave.

Minutes later, we are stepping off the elevator and into a room full of people I've never met. "Have fun and remember to socialize!" trills Effie before running off toward District 2's escort. "Java, it's been too long!"

"These people's names," Peeta says under his breath.

"Ridiculous," I chime in.

Peeta looks at me with a knowing smile. "Right?"

We burst into united laughter that is only interrupted when Haymitch appears behind us. "You kids know where the drinks are?"

I crane my head to look around the room. Finally, I spot a table in the corner that is loaded with more alcohol than I'm used to seeing. "Over there," I tell him, pointing in the direction of the table.

Haymitch slaps the back of my shoulder. "Thanks." Then he walks off, leaving Peeta and me to fend for ourselves.

"I don't know any of these people," I say.

"You know Beetee," Peeta says. I follow his gaze across the dining hall, where our former ally and friend stands chatting with a group of victors from his district.

"I'm not talking to him," I say and look away. This doesn't stop Peeta from being his usual friendly self.

"Hey, he sees us!" he says to me, then waves hugely and shouts, "Hey, Beetee!"

I duck my head so no one sees me. I hate public shows like this. Why would you shout at someone who's ten feet away when you could just walk over to them and chat without disrupting everyone else? So when Peeta goes over to talk to Beetee without me, I don't feel bad for the loss of his company.

A few feet away is a table filled with sweets and desserts. I set my sight on it and don't look away from it until I'm standing in front of it. Then I grab a plate from the end of the table and begin loading sweets onto it. Dough with a top layer of chocolate and filled with cream, sugary sweet balls that taste like doughnuts, small cherry flavored cheesecake bites, and other delectable treats.

"You know, I've always had the ability to track down the hottest woman in the room," someone says behind me. I spin around to find that it's Quake, one of the victors from District 2. I saw his Games on television just a few years before I went into the arena myself. He looks much scarier in person, without a doubt. He was a close contender to Finnick Odair's level of stardom - back when the Games were still on, that is. He's tall, muscular, and attractive, with a booming laugh and eyes so daring, they're dangerous.

"That's an interesting talent," I reply, indifferent to his seductive tone. I try to walk to a different section of buffet but he follows me.

"What's your story, Girl on Fire?" he asks.

I'm struck by the memory of Finnick saying something similar to this the first time he met me. _"What about you, Girl on Fire?"_ he had said. _"Got any secrets worth my time?"_

"You already know my story. The entire country does. And I'm not the Girl on Fire."

"I disagree," he says. I glance over to find him looking me up and down, his dark eyes looking even darker. "You're certainly dressed like it."

"Maybe so. But I'm not the same person I was then. The Girl on Fire was innocent."

"I bet you still are, though. You don't give me the 'big, bad' vibe."

"I'm anything except innocent," I snap. "I've killed people and so have you. Innocent people. Kids with families and futures. Men and women who had spouses and children. How does that still make me innocent?" He doesn't answer. I shake my head. "Never mind. You were a Career, you wouldn't understand."

I turn my back on him and leave. I can feel his eyes on my back, watching me walk away from him.

People like Quake are revolting to me. In most districts, kids prayed every night from the time they were old enough to understand the Games that they wouldn't end up in them. But not in Districts 1, 2, and 4. Not the Career districts. They trained for the Games their whole lives and even volunteered to be tributes in them. Where I volunteered to save my sister, they volunteered for fame.

So, of course, Quake wouldn't relate to the sickening feeling that I get when I remember that I have killed innocent people. Of course he wouldn't understand why the Games haunt me every time I shut my eyes. Because he wanted to be a part of them. He volunteered, for crying out loud!

"Katniss?"

I turn to see a familiar mess of red hair running towards me. "Annie!" I say.

We hug upon reaching each other, laughing the whole time. Ever since the war ended and she gave birth, Annie's mental state has not been as big of a problem. She has gained a good amount of mental stability. She no longer screams at loud noises. The crazy dance in her eyes isn't seen as often. The birth of her son gave her peace of mind when nothing else could.

"How have you been?" Annie says. "It's been so long!"

"I've been fine. You?"

"Good. Now that Cress is twelve, he's difficult to control. How about Maysilee and Willard?"

"Maysi's happy as can be. I taught her to hunt recently. Will just turned three on Monday."

"Wow, already?" Annie gasps. "I know kids grow up quickly, but wow. I was just at your house watching him be born yesterday, it seems!"

I laugh. "It's a memory that'll stick with you." She joins in my laughter. "Is Cress here with you?" I ask.

Annie shakes her head. "He's staying with my younger brother."

Cress is Finnick and Annie's thirteen-year-old son. He and his mother still live in District 4, where she grew up. Cress has always been a good friend of Maysi and Will. Annie and Cress were the first people to visit me at the hospital after both of my kids were born, just as Peeta and I were the first to visit Annie when Cress was born. That day will always be important to me. It was the first time I saw Peeta interact with a baby. The way he cradled Annie's infant in his arms made me swoon for the boy I swore I could never fall in love with.

"Where's Peeta?" Annie asks.

"I think he's sticking around with Haymitch somewhere," I reply.

"I'd better find him and say hi. I'll see you later, though."

With Annie gone, I wander around until I find an empty table. Then I sit and eat my plate full of finger foods. It's mostly seafood tonight. Scallops, grilled shrimp, and miniature balls of crab meat. I'm just finishing the last bit of what's on my plate when someone sits next to me. Johanna.

Haymitch's voice echoes in my head. Johanna Mason, District 7.

"We need to talk," she says in a low voice.

"Yeah, I agree," I say. "What was that look you gave me at the train station?"

"Part of the act. Listen up. I'm getting up to go to the bathroom," she says, putting finger quotes around the last four words.

"Okay?" I reply, confused.

"Quit talking and listen. You're going to go the bathroom in a few minutes. The old 'I'll leave and you leave later' game. We need to talk and that's the only room without bugs."

"How do you know?"

"Because I checked. Now I'm going to leave and you're going to pretend like nothing just happened."

She leaves without waiting to hear my response. In my periphery, I watch her walk to the bathroom. I look up at the large clock hung on the wall across the room. I wait for three minutes to pass, then I follow her. The moment I enter the bathroom, she runs to the door.

"What are you-?"

"I'm locking the door," she says, acting as though I'm the dumb one. "We need to talk."

"You said that," I say.

She narrows her eyes at me. "Cut the sarcasm, Everdeen. I-"

"Mellark," I correct.

"Mellark," she spits out. "Listen. I know about you and your friend. Gale, right? It's all over the news and on the cover of every tabloid. You need to know that you are _ruining_ this."

"Ruining what?"

"The cause. Everything that I'm trying to support."

"What cause?" I ask.

"The cause that's going to get you your sister back."

"How do you know about that?" I say in a voice almost as low as a whisper.

"I know a lot more than you think I do. All I'm asking is that you keep private things away from public areas. And keep quiet about whatever's going on between you and your friend. It's not helping anything. It's making them focus in on you."

"Who is 'them?'" I demand. "Does Gale know about this?"

"Yeah, he knows," she replies.

"You didn't answer my question."

"I did."

"No, the one about 'them.'"

Johanna looks down as if she's deciding whether to tell me or leave me in the dark. She chooses the latter. "Look, I can't tell you that right now. I just need you to trust me."

"Do you know how many people have told me that lately? That's all I've heard. 'Trust me, trust me, trust me.' I can't put faith in something I don't know anything about!" I shout.

Johanna is taken aback by my outburst, but she quickly wipes away her shocked expression and changes it into her usual snarky one. "Maybe you should try."

"So what's the point of this?"

"The point is you need to be careful what you do in the public eye," she says. "Now we're going to go back to the party and you're going to act like everything's okay because as far as you know, it is."

I don't respond. I just brush past her and walk briskly away from the bathroom. I'm wiping a single angry tear away from the corner of my eye when I collide with someone. I look up with an apology on the tip of my tongue, but then I see who I've bumped into. It's Gale.

"Gale, what are you doing here?" I whisper.

He takes my arm and pulls me away from the crowd full of people who are eating, drinking, and dancing the night away. We end up standing in a shadowy hallway outside of the dining hall.

"I needed to talk to you," he says.

"Couldn't it have waited?"

"I didn't waste a day on a train to the Capitol for no reason, Katniss."

"Okay, well, what is it?" I ask.

"You can't keep pretending with Peeta."

I'm outraged at what I'm hearing. "What makes you think I'm pretending?"

His face goes blank first, then grows suspicious. "What's up with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're just back and forth, constantly. You can never pick. You haven't always been like this."

"Did you forget the year I spent going back and forth between you and Peeta?"

Gale shakes his head, disagreeing. "The circumstances were different then. You had to pretend, and then you didn't. You were trying to keep yourself and dozens of other people alive. Of course you wouldn't be able to focus on one thing long enough to decide. But there's nothing holding you back now."

"There's a million things holding me back now," I argue.

"Name one."

"My family," I say. "It's funny how quick you forget that. Not to mention your family. Wouldn't it be weird for your son if his aunt became his stepmom?"

Gale's eyes glaze over after hearing my last question. He doesn't answer for a few moments. "Who said anything about marriage?" he says finally.

I'm dumbfounded by his words. "Why wouldn't we be discussing marriage?" And then I get it. Of course he wouldn't want to get married. He wants me all to himself until he finds Prim. He'll dump me like yesterday's newspaper the second she comes back.

He seems to see that I understand now because he doesn't try to back himself up. Instead, he apologizes. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I can't think about that now."

"But you can beg me to break up my marriage?"

"No, it's not like that," he says.

"Then tell me how it is because I don't know!"

Then he grabs me, backs me into a nearby wall, and kisses me roughly. Just as I did with Peeta, he is showing instead of telling. But showing doesn't always work. Not when there are no words to back it up.

I push him away, leaving him gasping for breath. His face is still inches away, but it's far enough for me to escape. "Find someone else to play with."

"Wait," he says.

I spin around on my heel. "What?"

He touches my face lightly, his touch leaving chills in its wake. "Don't do this."

Tears form in my eyes for reasons that are unknown to me as I whisper, "I love you." And then I leave him behind me.

* * *

 **A/N: The ending of this chapter wasn't happy, but hang in there! You'll be happy soon enough. But while you wait for that, tell me what you thought of Gale appearing in the Capitol. Did you like my addition of Cinna's niece? Also, what do Johanna's cryptic messages mean? I especially want to hear what you guys thought of the other victors. Let me know which one was your favorite so I can be sure to write more of them in the next few chapters (and maybe throughout the rest of the story)! Please remember to review with any thoughts, theories, or questions about this chapter or previous ones! I love hearing your feelings about the story.**

 **I just want to let you all know that I am hearing your opinions of the story. Some of you don't like that I'm portraying Katniss as a slut. I personally don't think I am. In the heat of the moment, she had sex with Gale and she doesn't regret that. But now she felt like she needed to save her relationship with Peeta so she had sex with him. And please remember that she's an adult and her home life is falling apart. I'm sorry to make anything OOC or anything but it will be fixed very very soon. Please don't give up on me!**

 **One more thing is a lot of you just are tired of hearing about Peeta. I'll admit that I'm tired of writing about him, but she married him at a fragile time in her life and was very much in love with him until Gale came back. Now that he's back, she's confused about why her feelings for Peeta aren't as strong anymore. She still loves him and cares for him, but she isn't in love with him. There's a difference between the two feelings.**

 **NOW LET ME EXPLAIN THIS CHAPTER: Katniss is fed up and in a very emotional state with her feelings for Peeta because she's realizing that she doesn't love him romantically anymore, but she still has to put up an act for her kids and she can't let the reporters capture her and Gale on camera.**

 **QUESTIONS THAT WILL BE ANSWERED VERY SOON: Maysi's tracker, why Katniss is so indecisive, what's going on with her, Johanna and Gale's secret.**


	23. Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

"So who did you get to meet tonight?" Effie asks.

We're all sitting on the couches in the gathering area on our district floor. It's half past midnight. We've just returned half an hour ago from our first reunion party of the many to take place this week.

"I caught up with Beetee and Annie," Peeta says. "Oh, and I met a few others. Saller from District Four. She was hanging around with Annie when I was. And Muscida, too. Muscida Selkirk, remember her? She's been around longer than I can remember."

Haymitch snorts. "She's been around longer than anyone can remember."

"Anyway!" Effie says, giving Haymitch a pointed look. "Who did you chat with, Katniss?"

I haven't been listening closely to what anyone has been saying; I've been too focused on the events that unraveled between me and Gale tonight. So when Effie says my name, I'm taken by surprise. "I saw Annie and Johanna."

"You didn't meet anyone else?" Effie asks.

"Well, there was this one guy. Quake from District Two."

"Oh, yes. Quake. You know, he's a bit of a legend here in the Capitol."

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "Isn't that what you say about all your victors?"

Effie shoots him another annoyed look, then looks back at me with a fresh face of cheerfulness. "Quake won his Games when he was only twelve years old."

"I know, I remember," I reply, if a little irritably.

"Well!" Effie says, clearly offended. She brushes invisible dirt from her skirt before continuing. "Anyone else? Haymitch, I know you spoke to Opal."

"The one and only." He gives a drunken laugh and holds up a glass of whiskey as if to toast us all."

"Don't you have anyone else to talk to, Haymitch?" Peeta asks him.

He lowers his glass. "This is a lonely life, boy. You'll learn that one day."

Peeta looks from Haymitch to me with a confused look. I just shake my head. There's no use asking him what he means. Besides, he's too drunk to know what he's saying.

"Well, listen up," Effie says. "We all have itineraries for this week, and each of you gets one!" She lays a piece of paper in front of each of us.

"Really?" Haymitch asks. He picks up the paper and scans through it. When he's read enough, he crumples it into a ball and sends it flying across the room.

"Haymitch! That was important!" Effie says.

"That was important!" he mocks in his best Effie Trinket voice.

Effie and Haymitch glare at each other for a moment. Then Effie clears her throat and turns her attention back to the schedule.

"As I was saying, this is a very busy week. Sunday - tomorrow - morning, we'll eat breakfast here and then head down for a swim in the indoor pool. It's on the old Traning floor. Anyway, that's with all the other victors. Then that night, well be having a semi-formal dinner together. Monday morning, we'll eat breakfast with the others, then we'll go on a field trip of sorts. Tuesday is free until that night, when all of you will be having an interview with Caesar Flickerman!"

Peeta and I raise our eyebrows. Even Haymitch's bored look disappears to make room for a surprised one.

"Caesar Flickerman?" Haymitch says. "That bastard's still alive?"

"He's on television all the time," Peeta says. "The Caesar Show."

"He's just as old as you are," I add.

Haymitch scoffs. "Doesn't seem like it."

Effie coughs to regain our attention. "Anyway, after your interviews, you'll be heading off to an after-party at Caesar's home. Wednesday will be photo shoots for a Capitol magazine. Thursday will be more interviews with Caesar, but the catch is that he gets to choose who he interviews. So you three had best make good impressions! Friday is purely social. Free time all day until five o'clock that evening, when we'll all go to a final party at President Paylor's mansion."

No one says anything. Effie claps her hands together excitedly to break the silence. "Doesn't it sound like fun?"

"Fun for you, maybe," Haymitch says as he stands. "But not for the rest of us." He goes off to his room and shuts the door just loud enough so we can hear it.

Effie's forehead looks as if it would be wrinkling in distaste if she hadn't had so much plastic surgery in it. "Well, someone's got a bad attitude. That's no way to start off a vacation!" she says.

"This is hardly a vacation," I mumble. I stand and bend over to grab my shoes from the floor beside my feet. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Effie."

I get halfway to the hallway before realizing that I'm leaving my husband behind. "Are you coming, Peeta?" He doesn't answer, so I turn and look at him. "Peeta?"

"Oh," he says. "Sorry. I, uh . . . I'll be there in a few minutes, okay? Try to go on to sleep."

I go back to our room alone, but I don't try to sleep. I stare awake at the dark ceiling, wondering what Peeta could possibly be doing. Fifteen minutes pass by with no sign of Peeta. My curiosity gets the best of me and I quietly slide out of the bed. I tiptoe over to the door and open it just a crack. Then I lean my ear toward the crack to listen.

"She's acting strange," I hear Peeta say.

The next voice belongs to a woman, but it's not Effie. "Strange how?" The voice is Johanna.

"She's grumpy, then she's defensive, then happy, then cheating on me again. I don't get it."

"Maybe you're reading the signs wrong," Johanna says. "Maybe she's-"

"What? Confused? I thought that too, Johanna, but she's not. She can't be. She's had time to think this through."

"How much time?"

"Longer than she needs," Peeta replies.

"Take it easy on her. She just found out about her sister."

"A week ago."

"Can you imagine finding out your sister was alive after fourteen years of thinking she was dead?"

"Thirteen," Peeta corrects.

"Since when am I the voice of reason here?" Johanna exclaims. Then she lowers her voice. "Be patient. She'll figure it out."

I quietly shut the door back. I didn't know it was allowed for victors from different districts to visit each other past social hours. I make a mental note to ask Effie about it later. For now, I am worried about Peeta. Have I really worried him so much that he's resorted to getting comfort from Johanna Mason, of all people? Johanna is a far cry from a good advice-giver.

I decide that is rather Peeta come back to an empty bedroom than remain helpless for another second. So I reopen the door, exit the room with a silent step, and creep down the hall to Haymitch's room. I give four, almost inaudible knocks on his door. Seconds later, he comes staggering to open it. The door swings open and he has to hold onto the knob to steady himself. He's still dressed in his grey dress pants, white button-down with three-quarter length sleeves, and orange vest. His lengthy blonde hair - aged with streaks of gray - looks fattier than usual. Across the room, I spot his glass of whiskey from earlier. Since then, he has downed every drop of it and is now carrying around the bottle itself, drinking straight from it.

"Oh, look who it is," he says when he sees me. "Please, come in."

I step inside his bedroom, which reeks of bad cologne and spirits. The unsavory smell makes my nose wrinkle in distaste. "Sorry for the smell," he says, noticing my expression. "So, what are you here for tonight? Need a drink? Or some of my expertise?"

"I need your help," I reply.

Haymitch raises an eyebrow. "That's something new. Sit down."

He gestures to two armchairs in the corner of the room. I choose one of them and he sits in the other.

"What can I help you with?" he asks. He moves his arm, causing his drink to slosh out of the bottle.

"It's about Peeta."

"No surprise there," he says. "Look, sweetheart, you're moody and he's a man. Why are you surprised that it bothers him?"

"You heard?" I ask.

"I was listening the whole time. Just calm the emotions and you'll be good."

I sigh. "That's not the only thing."

Haymitch rolls his eyes and takes another gulp of his drink. "Yet another expectation disguised as a surprise."

I narrow my eyes at him until he shuts up. "There's something going on."

"And?"

"It's about my sister."

"Who else knows about it?" Haymitch asks.

"Gale and Johanna. Peeta knows something, but I'm not sure how much."

He observes his bottle carefully. "And they're not telling you?" I now. "Act like you couldn't care less about knowing. The best information comes when you don't want it. Or at least act like it."

It's not the answer I'm looking for, but it's something. I stand up. "Thanks, Haymitch."

"Going so soon?" he asks. "Without even a drink to remember me by?"

"I'll remember you just fine without a drink." I begin walking to the door.

"Suit yourself," he says. He tried to get up from his own chair but falls back into it. "Hey, shut the door when you go."

I leave and shut the door, per his request. By the time I get back into the hallway, the lights are out throughout the entire floor. I creep quietly back to my room and slip through the door, careful not to wake Peeta. I climb into bed and make a special effort not to disrupt his sleep. For a few minutes, I watch him breathing. Slow and peaceful. Although it goes against my better judgement, I lean down and plant a gentle kiss on his sleeping lips. I nearly jump out of my skin when his eyelids open.

"You taste like him," Peeta says.

My eyes must be as wide as ever. I reach over and turn on the lamp at my side table. "What?" I exclaim.

"You taste like him. Gale."

"How . . . What are you talking about?"

"I know the difference between me and him. You've been kissing him."

"Gale isn't here, Peeta."

"Not now," Peeta says. "But he has been. I don't know why you lie about it. I know you love him."

On no accord of my own, I suddenly burst into tears.

"Katniss, are you okay?" he asks.

I nod, but am undermined by myself when even more tears come. He wraps his arms around me. Then he presses the back of my head into the crook of his neck. My arms wrap around him as well, my hands gripping him tightly. After a while, he lets go of me. "Do you need to talk?"

"No, I'm okay," I say. I manage to give him a weak laugh. "I don't know what that was."

"Why don't you try and sleep now?" he suggests. "It's been a long day. You're probably just tired."

Peeta's fix to everything: sleeping. Any time I seem emotionally unstable, he tells me to sleep. But I truly am too exhausted to argue, so I say "okay" and lie down. I let him tuck the comforter up to my chin and turn out the lamp for me. Then he leans down to kiss my forehead. He strokes the place where his lips touched my skin twice before rolling over and going to sleep, too.

I am left to stare at the wall adjacent to me for the rest of the night, unable to sleep in fear of having awful dreams about what I've done to my relationship with Gale. At one point, I begin to imagine that it's him laying in bed next to me instead of Peeta. His eyes staring into mine. His lips kissing me goodnight. But I can't keep myself awake forever, and I eventually fall asleep.

When I wake the following morning, Peeta is already gone. I sit up and search the room, then stand and search the bathroom. He's nowhere to be found. He must've already gotten up for breakfast.

I have a good bit of time before I need to be at breakfast, though, so I take a long, warm shower, letting the steam fill my nostrils and the water flow down my back. Then I dress slowly in a pair of denim pants and a simple purple shirt. I have almost decided to leave my hair alone, but it doesn't look right this morning, so I braid it in my usual style.

Everyone is already at the table when I arrive. "I'll say, Katniss," Effie says. "With all the time you took, I expected you'd at least clean up more than that."

"I did clean up," I say.

"Well, no matter." She waves her hand. "Today is a big, big, big day!"

Haymitch looks like he is all but prepared to walk out of the room. "Something tells me it's going to be a big, big, big disappointment," he grumbles.

Effie stares at him as if she couldn't possibly comprehend why he isn't as enthusiastic as she is. "Haymitch, aren't you excited to swim with all your old friends?"

To everyone's astonishment, Haymitch slams his fist down on the table. "I don't think you get it, lady. All but one of my friends are _dead_. Because of people like _you_." He stands and stomps off to his room.

Effie spots his schedule sitting on the table at the same time as I do. She waves it in the air and calls after him, "You forgot your itinerary!"

"Damn the itinerary," he says before slamming his door.

"What crawled up his sleeve?" Peeta asks.

I shrug. "I guess it's wearing on all of us."

"I suppose we'd better get the two of you straight, then," says Effie. "Today, you will be swimming with the other victors. Many of them don't know how to swim, so it will simply be a social gathering. Later tonight, we'll be eating supper together. It's semi-formal, which means your stylists will be back to work."

"Sounds great," I say dryly.

Halfway through breakfast, Amanda and Portia arrive. They apologize for being late and sit down. "Katniss and Peeta, are you ready for swimming today?" Portia asks.

"I guess," Peeta says. "But I'm not much of a swimmer."

"Most of the victors won't be swimming anyway," Portia reassures him. "Amanda and I have come up with some amazing swimsuits for both of you."

I have to fight to keep control of my rolling eyes. "Swimsuits?"

"You didn't expect to go in _that_ , did you?" Effie asks, horrified.

I don't answer her. When were done with breakfast, Amanda asks, "Are you ready?"

"Hardly," I reply, but I follow her back to the window room where I got ready yesterday and sit back down on the wooden table. She brings out a bikini-style bathing suit. It's green and fades from light to dark. The bottom piece is varying shades of green, as well. She helps me into it and then secured the clip at the back.

Amanda proves herself efficient in getting me ready on time. The swimming is set to begin at eleven o'clock and she has met out of the door right on time. Peeta is ready too, so we leave together. When we arrive, I'm surprised to see that we're the last ones to arrive.

"I thought we'd be early," I say.

Peeta laughs. "I guess they wanted a kick start."

I see Annie coming our way, wearing a bright blue two-piece swimsuit. It's something Amanda referred to as a tankini. Annie waves to us with a huge smile. "Hey!"

"Hey, Annie!" Peeta smiles and opens his arms to hug her. She turns to me after, so I give her my warmest smile and embrace.

"We didn't get enough time to talk yesterday," she says. "Let's get in the pool. I already tested the water."

Peeta and I follow Annie and hesitantly sink into the water. "It's warm," I comment. I move to the corner of the water, where there's a few steps for swimmers to wade into the pool. Peeta and Annie follow my lead.

"I know," she says. "It reminds me of summers back home. I'm so tired of winter!"

"It's not even Christmas yet, Annie," Peeta laughs.

"I know, but I'm already ready for it to be over!" She laughs. "It's been thirteen years since Finnick died. We never had a chance to live together and he never knew his son, but I always feel like he's going to walk through my door every Christmas."

Sadness takes over my cool and composed demeanor. Annie isn't the only one who misses Finnick. I couldn't stand the guy when I first met him I thought he was cocky, controlling, used to getting what he wanted, Capitol-affected. But I learned I could trust him with my life when he saved Peeta countless times in the Quell. We became even closer in 13 from our panic that Peeta and Annie were being held captive by President Snow, and from our mutual hatred of the man who ruled our nation.

"I miss him, too," I say. "I think about him constantly. Him and that trident against the world." I give a small laugh.

"I don't think of him that way," Annie says. "Even though he was my mentor."

Peeta raises his eyebrows. "Really? I didn't know that."

Annie says, "Yeah. We're only a year apart in age, so we got along well. He spent a lot of time with me in the week leading up to my Games. And he kissed me for the first time the night before I left for the arena, when he was saying goodbye. He said that if I died, he wanted to remember my lips." She snaps out of the daze that her story put her in and giggles shyly, remembering that Peeta and I are listening

Peeta laughs. "That sounds very Finnick-y."

"Great pun," I tell him, which creates more laughter.

"Was it really?" he asks. "I was worried my jokes were getting a little watery." He grins comically and gestures to the water we're soaking in.

The three of us crack up. We're so caught up in our own world that we don't notice when Johanna makes her way across the pool to us. "What are you three laughing about?" she asks.

"Just joking around," Peeta says, allowing his laugh to fade into a chuckle. "Why?"

"Just curious. We were all wondering. You three seem to be having a ball, after all." Johanna looks over her shoulder at a group of people on the other side of the pool. They're all watching us. "Why don't you come meet them?" she says, turning back to us.

Peeta, Annie, and I look between each other, wordlessly debating the situation. Meeting some of the other victors can't hurt, but do we feel up for it? I don't. I have no interest in conversing with people who hate me.

"Sure, we'll go," Annie decides for us. She sees my torn expression and takes my hand. "It won't be that bad."

Even Peeta has joined their side now. "Come on, Katniss."

So I begrudgingly go with them to the other side of the pool. I see that the average age of the group of victors is close to mine. They're hanging out casually, sipping from glasses of expensive champagne. I recognize a few of them. Silver, Silvia, Quake, and Saller.

When we arrive at their gathering place, they greet us with slaps on the backs, smiles, and boisterous laughter.

"Hey, Avox!" Quake calls out to an Avox across the room. The Avox looks up attentively. "Fetch the newcomers a glass!" He waves his champagne glass in the air.

After President Paylor rose to power, she allowed all Avoxes to resign from their jobs as Capitol servants, if they wished. Most of them chose to keep their jobs, either out of commitment, habit, or the fact that there wasn't much other work to find where a voice wasn't necessary.

This Avox, a middle-aged man with black hair and deep set eyes, returns minutes later with a bottle of champagne. Unfortunately for him, he makes the innocent mistake of holding them out to Quake, who is in the middle of telling a story to a group of other Careers.

"Quake, behind you," I say, pointing to where the Avox is waiting.

Quake turns his head, sees the Avox silently holding out the bottle, and slaps his hand away. The Avox reels his hand back toward his body, cradling the bottle in his elbow.

"I said to bring us glasses of champagne," Quake says.

"He might not have known how many," I say, trying to stand up for this man who didn't know any better.

Quake shoots me a menacing glare. "Then he should've asked."

I can barely believe the stupidity in this man. My temper gets the best of me and I retaliate. "He doesn't have a tongue, Quake! How could he have asked?"

He realizes I'm right and angrily snatches the bottle from the Avox man, who is still waiting behind us, watching our interaction intently. Quake shoves the bottle into my unprepared hands. "Then you can drink straight from the bottle."

"No problem," I say, satisfied at winning the argument.

Quake keeps a steady glare focused on me for a few more seconds, then looks away.

I turn to the Avox. "Thank you," I say. Then I mouth an apology to him. The man nods at me, a faint smile on his lips, and walks away.

With him gone, I set the bottle on the edge of the pool. I never intended to drink anything, anyway. Only now do I turn my attention to the group of victors around me. I spot Johanna and tread over so I'm sitting next to her.

"You must not be very good at making friends," Johanna observes without looking away from the person she's pretending to listen to.

"Me?" I ask. She nods. "I'm not the best."

"Go up to someone and start talking."

"I don't know any of these people," I say.

"That's why you talk to them."

"I don't get an introduction?" I ask.

Johanna sighs and scans the area, searching for someone to introduce me to. She nods towards a woman a few feet away. "You see that woman right there? She's about forty and has three kids. Her name's Chipper, from my district."

"Okay?" I say, still expecting an introduction.

Johanna rolls her eyes. "Can you not do anything for yourself? Come with me."

Johanna leads me to Chipper and takes an annoyed breath before saying, "Chipper, this is Katniss. Katniss, this is Chipper." Then she swims away before I can say anything else.

"Hi," Chipper says with a warm smile. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Hasn't everyone?" I say.

She gives me a strange look. My attempt to break the ice has failed.

"I mean, we're broadcast for the nation to see, and then they follow us around for the rest of our lives," I recover. "It's like we all know each other."

She smiles and nods. "Oh, yes. It is, isn't it?"

For a few minutes, we watch the others swim around, splash water at each other, and chat. Then she turns to me and asks, "Who have you met so far?"

"Nobody really," I admit. "I've met Quake. And you."

"Come on, then," she says. I follow her to the end of the pool, away from the steps I sat on earlier and away from Johanna and the Career victors that Chipper and I so clearly don't fit in with.

"Katniss," someone says. I look to my right and find Beetee sitting in his wheelchair, which he has rolled up to the side of the pool. He wears a pleasant smile. "Finally a familiar face."

"Hey, Beetee," I say, my mood brightening.

For years, I was mad at more than just Gale for creating the bombs that supposedly killed Prim. I was furious at Beetee, too, for being Gale's supervisor and teacher at that time. For allowing Gale to create something so horrible and deadly. But Gale explained to me that they never meant for Prim to be there. As a matter of fact, she had been given specific instructions not to be there. It's taken a while, but I've finally forgiven Beetee and Gale for what they couldn't control. Of course, that doesn't let Gale off the hook for keeping my sister away from me all these years.

Beetee sees Chipper next to me and gives her a polite nod. "Where are you headed?" he asks me.

Chipper is the one who answers. "I was taking Katniss to meet some of the other victors."

Beetee nods his head to the left. "More of our type are over that way."

"Thanks, Beetee," I say, laughing.

He watches us go with a warm smile. "Good to see you."

Chipper and I barely make it across the pool before I cover my mouth with both hands, hit by a sudden flash of nausea. She glances over and, noticing my sickened state, holds one of my shoulders. "Are you okay?"

I want to tell her that I'm fine, but I'm not sure that I am. So I don't object when she leads me inside the main building and takes me into the hallway of the Training Floor. As the elevator doors close around us, I look back and barely catch a glimpse of Peeta chatting animatedly with the Career victors. _Good_ , I think. _He belongs there._

As soon as the doors open to reveal the twelfth floor, I am overcome by a second wave of nausea. I rush to the bathroom, conscious of a fluttery, nervous feeling in my stomach. I end up vomiting twice. When I'm sure it's over, Chipper tells me to brush my teeth. Then she walks me back to the living area and helps me into a chair.

"What happened?" she asks me. "Are you sick?"

"I don't know," I say. Then I remember being sick on the train just yesterday. "I got sick yesterday, too," I add.

"Do you think it's the food that's making you ill?"

"I've never reacted badly to it before," I disagree. As soon as the words are spoken, though, the sickness strikes again. I make another dash to the bathroom. When I'm done and have assured Chipper that I'm okay this time, she lets me go back to my chair, where she lays the back of her hand across my forehead, then my cheeks, then my neck.

"You don't have a fever." She examines me for a moment more.

"I feel fine now," I insist.

"You'd better stay up here for a while to make sure. I'll stay with you, if you'd like," she offers.

I wave off her kind offer with a smile. "No, I'm really okay. Go back and have fun. Thank you."

Chipper is eventually convinced, but not before she pours me a large glass of water, helps me find a change of clothes, and drapes a blanket over me.

"Thank you so much," I say again as she leaves.

"No problem at all. Just ask one of the Avoxes to phone downstairs if you need me," she says.

And then in left alone in the posh Capitol living room. Since there's not much else to do, I power in the television and flip the channels until I find a show that interests me. The Caesar Show, Caesar Flickerman's talk show, which he hosts every weekday. Reruns of the show play throughout most of the day. Right now, today's episode is playing.

I watch as Caesar covers Panem's latest events and celebrity news. After that, he segues to the reunion, which he ends up discussing for the remainder of the hour-long show. Anyway, he talks first of the victors in attendance.

"We have _all_ the fan favorites," Caesar says in usual grand, over-the-top voice, "including Silver and Silvia, Quake Glesner, Enobaria Golding, Beetee Latier, our beloved Finnick Odair's wonderful widow Annie, Johanna Mason, Basa Green, and Katniss and Peeta Mellark!" Then Caesar's voice takes a lower tone. "And speaking of Katniss Mellark, an anonymous source sent us _this_ photograph of her and a certain boy toy from her district, caught kissing last night at the victors dinner."

The sound effect of a gasping audience is inserted in the background. Caesar also gives a dramatic gasp before continuing. "According to this source, they were overheard arguing. Then Mr. Hawthorne swept her into his arms and kissed her! And oh, how very steamy it looks!"

I power off the television quickly, my outrage taking over. Who gives them the right to broadcast my private life, which I can't seem to control as it is, to the entire nation?

I have nothing else to do as I watch the clock tick away and wait for Peeta and Haymitch to return. So I relax into the couch cushions, lay my head on its arm, and take a much-needed nap.

* * *

 **A/N: I am SO sorry for not updating sooner! We're having trouble with my computer and I've been extremely busy. I'm not sure when I'll be able to update next, but please know that I'm doing everything I can to make sure this story gets updated!**

 **As usual, please let me know what you thought of this chapter! I'm sure you'll love the next one :)**


	24. Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

I'm woken by rowdy voices and boisterous laughter escaping through the open elevator doors and stepping onto our floor. I am lying on the sofa with my back to the door, but I know it's Peeta and Haymitch. The smell of liquor has begun to circulate the room.

Then I see Effie rush from the hallway, into the living area. She must have returned after I fell asleep, and is now coming to hush Haymitch and Peeta. "Shh!" she says in a loud whisper.

"Why?" Haymitch asks in at a high volume.

"Katniss is sleeping," Effie whispers.

Peeta says, "Yeah, I heard she got sick. Is she okay?"

"Yes, she'll be fine," Effie replies. "I had a nurse come in to check on her while she was sleeping. She doesn't seem to have a fever."

There's a brief silent period, followed by the sound of someone's shuffling feet. Then someone is breathing beside me. Not long after, the person leans down to kiss my forehead. I know from the lightness of the touch that it's Peeta. I assume he leaves after that, because he doesn't say or do anything else, but I can't be sure, because I'm back asleep moments later.

When I wake again, I see through the floor-to-ceiling windows that it's dark outside: I look around for a clock and am surprised to see that it's past nine o'clock. The others are probably still at supper with the other victors.

I sit up and sloppily fix my hair into a braid down my back. I stand pick up the blanket Chipper laid across me earlier, then go to my room. Immediately, I notice the small piece of paper lying on my made-up bed. I sit on the edge of the mattress, careful not to wrinkle the neat bedspread, and open the folded note.

 _Meet me outside the Training Center at 10:00. Get better._

It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that the note is from Gale. His tall and skinny cursive letters are enough to give it away. I've never met anyone whose handwriting is similar to Gale's.

I can't meet Gale in my present state, wearing pajamas and smelling of chlorine, so I make my way to the shower. Although I just braided my hair a few minutes ago, I release it from its tie so the chemicals from the pool can be washed from it. The water feels like a welcome summer shower on my hot, clammy skin. When I step out ten minutes later, I press the button on the wall that dries and combs my hair automatically so I can towel off my body at the same time.

In my closet, I find a variety of clothes that Amanda stocked it with for the week. I pick a short cobalt blue dress made of a loose and flowy fabric. It casual and since I've no idea what Gale plans to do tonight, it's a good in-between choice. But it's is a sleeveless dress, so I browse the five outerwear selections that Amanda has supplied. Among them is a brown leather jacket, which I choose upon sight because it reminds me of my father's leather hunting jacket. Unlike my father's jacket, this one comes to my waist and is tightly fitted. I choose a pair of boots and turn to stand in front of the full length mirror on the wardrobe door.

Looking in the mirror, I'm surprised, but also disappointed. Surprised because of how healthy I look, despite my sickness of late. Disappointed because, on me, my outfit looks like something I would dress my daughter in. Not that I buy my kids' clothes. Annie goes shopping with me or buys them clothes for their birthdays. I have no fashion sense at all, something she's highly aware of.

By now, it's half past nine. I still have at least twenty-five minutes before I need to head downstairs. So I waste time by examining myself in the mirror again. My waterproof eye makeup from swimming earlier today is still intact, so there's not much I can do there. Besides, I wouldn't know what to do with makeup anyway. I would braid my hair, but it's still a little damp from the shower.

After twenty minutes of wasting time, I decide to head downstairs early. Luckily, I don't encounter anyone on my way down. I manage to slip through the front door of the Training Center unnoticed. Once I'm outside, I see that Gale is already here.

He looks up from his cell phone, which he was typing on swiftly, and slips it into his pocket. "Hey."

"Hey," I say. I stand a safe distance away from him, just in case he tries something like he did last night.

We stare at each other wordlessly. Then, "I heard you were sick today. You look fine now."

"I wasn't sick," I say. "Just ate something funny."

"So you're okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine."

He nods and stares at me a bit longer. Under the pressure of his eyes, I look down at my shoes. "Look," he finally says. "There are some things we have to clear up. Like what happened in the woods."

What happened in the woods.

There's only one thing that occurred in the woods that is worth talking about. I thought we had an unspoken agreement that the event wouldn't be discussed, but evidently not. Or if we did, he's decided to break it.

"What about it?" I ask cautiously.

"What was it to you?"

His eyes blaze into mine like burning flames. Just like if they were fireworks, I can't find it in me to look away. With our eyes fastened tightly to each other, I say, "An escape."

He releases a troubled breath. His eyebrows furrow. "From what?"

"I don't know," I say quietly. "From being unhappy. From not being with you."

"So it made you happy? I made you happy?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"So you'd do it again? No regrets?"

I'm about to tell him maybe, that I might make the same choice under similar circumstances. But Peeta's image flashes through my mind at that moment. This time, I'm not guilty because of my feelings for Peeta. Instead, my guilt stems from his feelings for me. How hurt he must be. "No."

Gale is taken aback. "Why not?"

I try to maintain a strong, even tone, but it comes out as more of a plea. "I'm married. I can't hurt Peeta this way. It's wrong."

Gales eyes take on the same nervous, desperate form that my voice has taken. "But you don't love him. You said so yourself."

"Yeah, but-"

"But you did," he insists. "After the fact, when you said you loved me, I said, 'Do you still love him?' and you said, 'No.'"

"I do love him, though, Gale. You can't just stop loving someone! You of all people should know that!" I argue.

Gale freezes for a few long minutes. Then he says, "Remember after you said that? I said we could go if you wanted to. Move away with the kids and start over. Maybe have our own family."

I shake my head. Anger has caused tears to form in my eyes. "Things have changed since then."

"How?" he demands.

"I found out you're still married to my little sister," I shoot back. For the first time since my discovery of this news, I feel the full effect of it. My body begins to tremble and the wetness in my eyes threatens to spill over. It's as if all at once, the reality of the situation is dawning on me. He loves her. He can't love me.

This is wrong, so incredibly wrong. How can I go on like this with Gale, knowing that my sister is out there somewhere, alive and hoping to see her husband and return to the life they once had together? How can I go on, wondering whether Gale really loves me, or if I'm his sick idea of a replacement for Prim?

His voice interrupts my thoughts. "Katniss, I don't know where she is!"

"That doesn't matter!" I shout. "If you ever really loved her, you wouldn't give up on her so easily! She's alive, Gale. Wondering why you haven't found her yet."

"You don't get it, Katniss. There's more to this than you know. And this isn't about you."

"It's not about me. You're right. But it's about my sister, and I'm sure she'd like a faithful husband," I say harshly.

Gale's expression twists into one of disdain and disgust. "You can't even say that for yourself."

"I want more for her than what I have."

"You brought it on yourself," he argues.

"I couldn't help falling for someone else," I say. My voice has fallen to a softer volume. Barely audible.

"Neither could I." His eyes don't drop from mine. There's a pause before he says, "We don't have a choice anymore. We need to go."

My confused look is enough of a response to make him go on.

"We're not the only ones involved with this anymore. It isn't safe to be here. I can't afford for you to be dragged in-"

I'm about to demand what he's talking about, but the Training Center doors open and Annie walks out. "Hello?" she says.

"Annie," I say.

"Katniss? Is that you?" She must not be able to see me, out in the dark like this. "It's freezing! Come inside." She opens the door wider and holds it open for me. It doesn't take her long to spot Gale, though. She comes outside, walking toward us, letting the door shut behind her. "Is that Gale?"

"Yeah," Gale says, unsuccessfully trying to mask the tension in his voice.

Annie must sense the strain between us. "Is everything okay?"

Neither of us say anything.

"Did I interrupt something?"

No response.

"I didn't mean to pry," she says. She looks away from us, clearly uncomfortable. "Peeta told me you were feeling ill. I guess that was just your excuse."

I suddenly realize how bad this must look to someone on the outside of all this. "No, Annie, it wasn't. I was sick three times this morning, but I started feeling better so I-"

Annie narrows her eyes in a calculating manner. "Yeah, Peeta said you've gotten sick a few times lately. It sounded like you recovered a little too quickly."

Gale steps forward. "What are you accusing her of?"

Annie looks away again, trying to find anything but Gale to look at. Gale looks particularly threatening now that he is towering over this petite, redheaded woman. "Nothing," she says quietly.

"Then why are you arguing?" he asks.

She ignores Gale and turns to me. "I'm sorry, Katniss. I just assumed."

"It's fine," I say. If it was anyone other than Annie, I wouldn't be so forgiving. But honestly, I would've thought the same thing if I had been witness to this situation.

She looks at me sheepishly. Then she starts moving back toward the Training Center, but turns back to me before she opens the door. "Katniss?"

I look up.

"Just remember what could happen if anyone sees you out here."

Then she goes back inside. Gale comes forward, takes my face in his hands, and kisses the top of my head. "See you later."

As he walks away from me, I remember what was bugging me before Annie interrupted. "Gale!" I call out.

He looks back at me over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"What are we getting dragged into?" I ask.

He stares at me for a moment. Then he shakes his head and turns away to leave. That's all the answer I get.

Once I'm back inside the building, I see that my meeting with Gale lasted less than fifteen minutes. It seems that most of the victors are still at dinner, so I can head back to our floor without worrying about seeing anyone. My assumption is proven wrong, however, as Basa Green of District 9 steps onto the elevator right as the doors are closing.

"Hey, you're Katniss Everdeen," Basa says. She looks me up and down. "Seventy-fourth Games, huh?"

"Yeah," I say curtly.

She pauses before speaking again. "I'm Basa Green."

"I know," I say. I'm not at all in the mood to converse with the most sexualized woman in Panem. In one glance, I've seen all I need to see. She's dressed provocatively in a black, fitted dress made of thick fabric that's sheer on the sides. And it's clear from the skin showing through the sides of the dress that she isn't wearing any undergarments. Perfect.

She grins at me. "I loved reading the news about you this month. The secret relationship with your friend. . . . Or not so secret."

I don't say anything. This elevator ride seems to be lasting much longer than it should.

"You know, I think the whole thing is sexy," she says.

 _I bet you do_ , I think.

"But how does Peeta just sit by and let it happen?" she continues. "How can he stay at home, knowing his wife is out with another man? Worse yet, how can the two of you come here and pretend you're still in love?"

With my emotions already running high from my meeting with Gale, I am lacking inhibition. So I'm not surprised by my actions when I reach over and pin my forearm against her collarbone, twist her arm behind her back, and slam her against the wall of the elevator.

"Ah!" she cries out.

"Listen here," I growl, my teeth clenched. "We're not faking. Get that straight. What gives you the right to say that anyway?" She doesn't reply. "Answer me!"

"I'm sorry," she chokes out.

I realize that my fingers are blocking her airways. Begrudgingly, I release my hold on her, then back away. She doesn't give so much as another glance in my direction. When the doors open to her floor, she walks out without a word.

The ride to my floor seems much quicker now that I am alone. The elevator doors finally open to reveal an empty twelfth floor suite. I am shocked when I find myself stumbling into the room. A few yards away, I collapse onto the sofa, disoriented, and out my head between my knees. The sudden dizziness has caused me to nearly lose my sight, like when you stand up in a dimly lit room after sitting down for too long, and when you go into another room, the light is so bright that it blinds you and your body feels numb and you can't stand straight.

I have to stay seated for a few minutes to take control of myself again. I glance at the clock across the room and see that it's half past ten o'clock now. The others should be back any minute. Seeing as I'm supposed to be resting right now, but I'm dressed in my blue dress and jacket, I know I should change. So I dash to my bedroom, where I throw on the pajamas I was wearing earlier today and attempt to wash the makeup from my eyes. Then I braid my hair in a few quick, careless motions. As I'm leaving the room, I spot Gale's note still sitting on the bed. If Peeta finds it, he'll know somethings up. So I make sure that it's properly disposed of. I make it back to the sofa with mere seconds to spare before they return, with their drunken cackles and rambunctious chatter.

When he sees that I'm awake, Peeta makes his way over to me. "Hey," he says. He sits on the sofa next to me and wraps his arms around me. I lean my head on his right shoulder and close my eyes. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm fine," I say.

"Good."

Amanda and Portia are stepping off the elevator now. I turn my head to look at them. When Amanda sees me, she gives me a sad smile. "Sorry you couldn't make it tonight, Katniss. I had such a pretty dress for you."

"I'm sorry, too," I say. "But I can wear it tomorrow."

"On the field trip?" Portia says. "Of course not! You'd tear it!"

Amanda and Portia laugh together, then dismiss themselves for bed.

Effie and Haymitch come to sit with us then, on the long, rounded sofa. Haymitch reaches for the remote control, which I left on the coffee table. He switches the television on and I'm embarrassed to see that I left it on Caesar Flickerman's channel. A show called Celeb Scoop is beginning now at the start of the half hour.

"This okay?" Haymitch asks. No one objects to watching it, so he looks back to the screen.

"Tonight on Celeb Scoop," says the male newscaster, "we go over the highlights of the second night of the Victors Reunion here in the Capitol. Which victor announced the release of their upcoming music album? Who was caught sneaking around with a new man? Who got in a brawl on the elevator? Then, we'll prepare you for the highly-anticipated victor interviews, which are just two days away! Stay tuned after this break."

The show cuts to a commercial break then, which leaves me little time to compose myself. I try to relax my wide eyes and flexed brow, but to no avail.

How did they get wind of my meeting with Gale and my incident in the elevator so quickly? It happened little more than half an hour ago!

"Haymitch, can we change the channel?" I ask suddenly.

Three pairs of eyes turn to look at me as I struggle to wipe my face clean of my anxiety. "I asked if anyone was opposed," Haymitch says.

"I changed my mind," I say.

"Why so sudden?" he asks.

I fumble around in my brain for a decent excuse. "I hate these celebrity news shows. They're trashy and untrue. It's an invasion of privacy."

"It's only an invasion of privacy if it's about you," Haymitch points out.

Peeta's eyebrows are pressed together. "Are you okay, Katniss?"

"Yes! I just want to watch something different!" I exclaim in exasperation.

Haymitch takes one long look at me, sees my distress, and clicks off the television entirely. I look away from him and turn to the black screen. "I think it's time we all get to bed," he suggests, although it's more of an order.

Effie is the first to stand. She brushes off her lavender skirt and adjusts her marching blond-and-lavender wig. "Get some rest, everyone! Tomorrow is a big, big, big day!" she says before prancing off to her room for the night.

Peeta is next. He removes his arms from me and stands slowly so I have enough time to take my head from his shoulder. "Goodnight, Haymitch," he says. He offers a hand to me and I grab it graciously, letting him walk me back to our room.

"Uhn uhn!" Haymitch says in a tone my mother has used on me when I was a young, misbehaving child. Peeta looks back over his shoulder, but I pretend I didn't hear anything. This backfires when he speaks again. "Katniss? A word?"

I reluctantly release Peeta's hand. He gives me an encouraging smile. "I'll be in the room when you're done," he promises.

Haymitch keeps a close eye on Peeta until the door to our bedroom is closed. Then he tells me to sit down - an order I obey. He doesn't say anything at first, just observes me quietly.

"What?" I say.

"I'm sorting through the liquor and the memories of the past troubles you've caused me," he says.

My forehead wrinkles. What does that mean?

"Do you want to tell me what you've done, or should I wait to hear it from someone else?"

I pause, thinking through my options. If he hears from someone else, there will surely be consequences for me. But if I tell him now, I have to witness the initial reaction and harsher consequences.

"Well?" he says.

"I think I'll wait," I reply.

He narrows his eyes. "That wasn't actually an option."

I knew that was coming. I sigh before saying, "Gale's here." Haymitch doesn't seem affected by the information, so I continue. "And I saw him tonight. Annie caught us."

I wait for him to say something. After several long moments, I realize he's waiting for the same thing. "But that's not all," he finally says. Haymitch knows me far better than I'd like to admit. He knows that I'm holding back.

I take in a breath that is meant to calm my nerves but seems to strengthen them instead. "I pinned Basa from Nine to a wall in the elevator."

There's a moment for the information to set in. Then, in disbelief, "You pinned Basa Green to a wall?"

"In the elevator," I add, as if this will make things any better.

Haymitch grabs a half-empty bottle of white wine from the wine cooler next to the sofa. He opens it swiftly and gulps down two mouthfuls of the stuff. "You know, Katniss, you really shouldn't let your anger get the best of you. I thought you'd learned that by now."

"You thought wrong," I mutter.

"Clearly," he remarks. He takes another sip of wine. "Now you have to decide whether Peeta finds out from you tonight, or if he hears from one of the other victors in the morning. What I'm not leaving up to you is your schedule with the hunter boy."

"What do you mean?" I say. Haymitch doesn't have it in him to forbid me from seeing Gale, does he?

"No more seeing him in secret. Got it? You must think I didn't hear about your secret rendezvous with him last night."

"It wasn't a rendezvous. I didn't even know he was in the Capitol," I say.

"I don't care how it happened. What I care about is that boy in there, in your room, who is put down and stepped on every time you see your friend."

I am unable to maintain eye contact with him anymore. The shame I feel is the same I've felt for weeks now. But somehow, here with Haymitch, it's worse.

"Care to tell me what started this little scene in the elevator?" he asks. Another swig of wine.

"She said Peeta and I are faking being in love. So I pinned her to the wall."

Haymitch gets a sudden, serious look in his eyes. "Anyone with an ounce of sense can see you love that boy."

My eyes are beginning to get wet and I have to look down in fear of crying.

"And any living, breathing person can see that he loves you," Haymitch continues. "The problem is believing that you love each other at the same time and in the same way."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Well, look at your timeline. For years, he loved you and you didn't acknowledge you. Not your fault, obviously . . . or so we've been told. Then he admits his love for you and, being the indecent person you are, you turn him down in private and play it up in public. Then you suddenly have a change of heart and everyone is sure you love him, but you're still with that woodsy boy on the side. What's his name again?"

"His name's-"

"Yale, that's right. Anyway, so you're running around with him. Then you get in the Quell and it's clear you love Peeta, but you don't seem to know it yourself. And when you do figure it out, well, you're stuck with Dale. Then you get married to Peeta and have a few good years. And now this story has come out about you and Dale, and everybody is just supposed to believe that you really love Peeta?"

I pause to consider this angle. Haymitch is right. How is anyone supposed to believe that I love Peeta? How are they supposed to believe that we're happily married? As far as I know, no one knows that Gale ever lived in District Two. For all they know, Gale and I could've been having an affair for years.

Haymitch sees that I know he's right and smirks at me. He takes another sip. "Sometimes a man for each hand doesn't pay off, does it, sweetheart?"

"None of this is my fault," I say. My voice is breaking with every word I say, with every syllable I pronounce. "I couldn't control it."

For the first time in more years than I'd like to count, I see my mentor's features soften. He puts an arm around my shoulders sympathetically and hugs me.

For a long time, we're both quiet. Then he releases me. "I've never really understood love," he muses, breaking the silence. "I'm not sure it's meant to be understood."

Haymitch's drunken thoughts have provided me with the words I've been needing to hear. If love isn't meant to be understood, then that's why I love Gale beyond explanation. After all, love goes deeper than words. I tell myself that all the time. I even tell it to my kids. So why did it take me this long to really accept it?

"Haymitch," I say, interrupting his quiet reverie. "Do you think it's possible to love two people?"

He stops drinking and leans forward, his forearms resting on his thighs and the bottle of wine in one hand. He considers this for a second, then nods. "Yeah. You know, Katniss, loving someone romantically is the same as loving a family member or friend. You'd take a bullet for them. I've seen you take a whipping for your friend, but I've also seen you throw your life away to save Peeta's without thinking twice."

An Avox enters now and goes over to the fireplace a few feet away from us. He presses a button on the wall beside it. Fire begins to burn almost instantly. The synthetic flames cast shadows on our faces and warm my body. I watch them flicker with varying shades of orange while I let his words settle inside me.

"They've done the same for me," I say quietly. "Gale fed my family while I was in the Games. He saved them by taking them to Thirteen."

I close my eyes and press my index finger and middle finger into my brow, trying to remember more.

"There's a big one you're missing," says Haymitch.

I think harder, fishing for any act of love done to me. Then I think I know, so I say, "Gale risked his life to rescue Peeta for me."

"And?" Haymitch prompts. But I can't come up with anything else, so he says it for me. "He protected your sister for thirteen years, even after you accused him of killing her."

"How do you know about that?" I ask him. My face is twisted with confusion, realization, and shock.

"Remember what I told you back on that hovercraft? About why you aren't allowed to make the plans?"

"But you knew she was alive," I say. "How long?"

"The whole time," he says. He gives me two sympathetic pats on my shoulder. "Get some sleep, sweetheart."

He stands up, but I stop him. "Wait, Haymitch. . . ."

"What?"

I stand up and face him. "Is she okay?"

I don't have to say a name. He already knows. He looks to be deciding how much to share with me, and finally settles on giving a small but reassuring smile. "She's okay."

Those two words provide me more comfort and peace of mind than I think I've ever had. _She's okay. You don't have to worry anymore._

I follow Haymitch's suggestion and go to my room. As promised, Peeta is still awake, waiting for me. He's wearing his reading glasses and holding a book I've never seeing before.

"What are you reading?" I ask as I climb into bed beside him.

He looks at me, then back to the book. "It's a classic, I think. It's called _The Scarlet Letter_."

"What's it about?"

Peeta shakes his head. "It's nothing interesting," he says in a way that tells me it _is_ interesting. But I won't push my limits tonight. He puts the fool on the nightstand and reaches up to turn off his lamp for the night.

"Peeta," I say before he can twist the knob on the lamp. "I have to tell you something."

He raises a questioning eyebrow. "Okay."

"I saw Gale last night. I didn't know he was in the Capitol. Anyway, I saw him again tonight."

Peeta leans his head back against the headboard. "I heard about last night. What happened tonight is news."

"I should've told you last night," I say.

Peeta ignores this. "Did he kiss you or anything?"

Saying "yes" would upset Peeta, although he'd never admit to it. Saying "no" would be lying, and there were witnesses that I'm not sure I can trust. So I choose to come clean.

"Yeah," I say. "Last night, I pushed him away. Tonight was just saying goodbye."

Peeta grabs my hands now. "Thank you," he says, looking into my eyes with the utmost sincerity. "For telling the truth."

Then he leans in and kisses me - a soft, quick kiss on the cheek. After that, he says goodnight and turns out the lamp. I turn over on my side and face the wall. Through the window, I can see the bright, neon lights of the Capitol glowing in the sky, which is never quite the same as the starry black it is back home.

I dream of chasing Prim through the meadow. Bringing Lady, her goat, home for the first time. Seeing the joy on her face when I brought Buttercup to our dark and lonely quarters in District 13. How her life with Gale must have been. When I wake, I am thinking of the letter Prim wrote to me prior to her supposed death. I had completely forgotten about it until now. Was it really written before the bombs, or was it written afterwards, while she was living with Gale? Was she trying to tell me she was still alive? Could she have been trying to tell me where she is now?

* * *

 **A/N: Once again, I'm sorry for not updating sooner. The problem with my computer should be fixed VERY soon. Thanks for hanging in there with me.**

 **Over the past two chapters, I've lost a lot of readers. To those of you who are remaining, I encourage you to please stay. This story, although it may not seem like it now, will all make sense. I'm a Katniss fan above all else, and I wouldn't ever write something so out of character for her without having a good reason behind it. Trust me when I tell you that this WILL get better. I promise.**

 **As always, please remember to review and tell me what you thought of the chapter! Any opinions, suggestions, compliments, complaints, etc are always welcome. I love you guys :)**


	25. Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

I'm on a tram. A doorless, windowless, wide-open tram that is taking me and the other victors to our so-called "field trip."

On one side of me is Peeta and on the other side, Haymitch. Haymitch is mad that he's having to sit next to me instead of Opal, who is sitting six cars away at the very front of the tram with his district. So Haymitch has scooted as far away from me as he can on the short, three-seater bench.

"Where are we going?" I ask Peeta for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Still don't know," Peeta replies. "Let's ask somebody else." He leans forward and taps a man named Parry on the shoulder. "Hey, Parry, where are we going?"

Parry shrugs. "No idea, brother."

"Thanks." Peeta leans back on our bench. "He doesn't know," he tells me.

I laugh. "I heard."

Parry is kind of a legend in his district. His dark hair, eyes the color of chocolate, and dark skin label him as just another person from District 11. But unlike any of the tributes from his district that came before him, he had a heart that refused to be toughened by the rules of the Games. Parry Ogilby was crowned victor of his Games after refusing to kill a single soul. He was extremely talented in survival skills.

In his interview, Caesar asked how a person with a heart as kind and good as his could stand to kill anyone. Parry replied that he wasn't planning to kill innocent children. He said that if twenty-three kids had to die in order for him to live, then he wasn't going to be the one to kill them. Because he refused to let the Capitol's entertainment agenda get to him.

In the end, his refusal worked for him. He is, to date, the only victor without a single kill on his record. I respect him for that. But his actions were considered rebellious by many and ultimately resulted in his family and friends mysteriously disappearing from their homes a year later while Parry was in the Capitol mentoring.

"Ten minutes remaining in your trip," says the woman in the first car, speaking over a sort of intercom system. I can just barely make out her shape in the distance. "On your right, you'll see the Hunger Games sponsor buildings. This is the place where citizens of the Capitol who wish to become a sponsor will come to donate money to their tribute of choice, and where the mentors and escorts from each district watch the Games. Victors of previous Games are also allowed to watch here."

"She talks in the present tense," Peeta whispers. "It almost feels like the Games are still happening."

I nod. I don't say anything back in fear of panicking. The Games were something I ridded myself of long ago. I don't like to think about them. But Peeta's comment leads me to wonder - yet again - where we're going today.

"Five minutes," the woman at the front says into the loudspeaker. "On your left, we have the entrance to the tribute preparation quarters. The actual tribute rooms are underground. This aboveground area is where the Hunger Games control room is located. The workers in the control room control the launching of tributes into the arena, the countdown, the cannons, the hovercraft that lifts the dead from the arena, the anthem and faces that appear in the sky each night, any feasts that are held, any fun special effects that are thrown into the arena, and the victors themselves."

"Did she just say that they control the victors?" Peeta asks, his mouth drawn into a harsh line.

I nod my head. I heard the same thing. We both look in different directions, seeing the behind-the-scenes parts of the Games for the first time.

"Where do you think they're taking us?" Peeta asks.

Before I can open my mouth to answer, a garage door on the side of a gigantic dome-shaped structure reveals a concrete ramp that looks to serve as a sidewalk. The tram pulls off to the side of the sidewalk, and the woman taps into the loudspeaker again. "At this time, all passengers are asked to unbuckle their seat belts and exit the tram in a safe, orderly fashion. We will meet at the large garage door and then continue our tour."

Peeta takes my hand and helps me down. He offers Haymitch help, but Haymitch shoves his elbow into Peeta's waiting hand and hops down himself. Since we're in the last car, we're the last group to arrive at the garage doors.

"Follow me," the woman says. She's tall and blonde, with crimson lipstick and brown roots. She looks surprisingly normal, only she's wearing makeup. She leads us straight down the wide sidewalk, without a single curve or turn. Soon, we reach wide, metal double doors that are taller than any doors I've seen in my life. They must be four times my height and made for large trucks to enter through. I'm wondering how this woman, who is the same size as me and is undoubtedly weaker, is going to open this huge door. But she presses her palm into a fist-sized red button beside the door and it opens automatically. "The brightness might be a bit blinding for a moment, but you'll adjust. You've adjusted to it before, after all."

She's right. Once I step through the doors, there's bright, white sunlight that shoots into my eyes and blinds me. Since I was at the back of the line, it takes me longer than everyone else to become accustomed to the light. I hear several gasps from people closer to the head of the procession. The gasps slowly begin to travel towards us. And then my temporary blindness is subsiding and I can see again, and suddenly it's me gasping.

This is not a regular field trip. This is my own personal prison. The Capitol has brought me back to the place I still see in my nightmares. They have forced me to relive what I've tried so hard to forget.

I am in the arena of the 74th Hunger Games.

Before I can think of what being here means, I feel myself falling. Someone catches me but I don't see who it is because then my world goes black.

When I come to, my head is in Peeta's lap. He's sitting in the grassy area around the Cornucopia, which I see out of the corner of my eye. He lets out a relieved sigh when he sees my eyes open. "Katniss," he says. I begin to panic as I realize why I passed out in the first place. My breathing and heart rate are increasing at a superhuman rate. "You're okay."

"Why are we here?" I whisper frantically. "Why are we here, Peeta? We have to get out. Why did they bring us here? They're going to kill us!"

"Hey, hey, hey," he says. He brushes my hair away from my face and shushes me repeatedly. "It's okay."

"No, we're not, Peeta! They're going to kill us!" I cry out.

I sit up and hold his face between my hands. "Peeta, we're in the Games again. Why are they doing this?"

"They're not going to kill us. We're not in the Games."

"Then why are there cameras?" I yell, pointing at a cameraman who has his camera pointed straight at me. It crosses my mind that it doesn't make sense for cameramen to be in the arena with us. There were always cameras hidden inside the arena, controlled by a man behind a computer, presumably far away from the arena. So seeing this man - a living, breathing person - filming me fills me with suspicion.

"They're for the news, okay?" Peeta says. "They're getting our reactions and you're feeding into it. Just calm down. I promise you, we're okay."

Johanna steps in my line of vision, blocking the sunlight that was shining directly in my eyes. "Realize where we are, Everdeen?"

This time, it's Peeta who growls back, "Mellark."

It surprises me to see Peeta acting this way. He's trying to comfort me but I'm not entirely convinced that I shouldn't be comforting him. I can practically see his heart beating through his shirt. His rapid breathing is a match to mine. His eyes are fighting back the panic that mine display openly, trying hard to appear collected. This is probably more for my sake than his own.

"Excuse me," Johanna says, leaning back away from us and smacking away at a strip of gum. "Let's talk again when your attitudes improve."

I glare at her back as she walks away. When she's far enough away to satisfy me, I look back at Peeta. "Why did they bring us here?" I ask him again.

"I don't know, Katniss. The blonde woman said she's letting us react before she goes on."

I look around me for the first time. I seem to have had the worst reaction since this was my arena, but the others aren't faring too well, either. Annie and Chipper look to be experiencing flashbacks that only they can see. Beetee is in temporary shock. He's sitting on a tribute launch pad in his wheelchair, rocking back and forth in it with his knees tucked to his chest.

Gathered around the entrance to the Cornucopia are the Careers. Quake is the head of them, it seems. He is laughing rambunctiously and speaking in a much louder tone than he should be. Right now, he reminds me of Cato. He even kind of resembles him. Although Cato was blonde with brown eyes, whereas Quake has dark blonde hair and blue eyes, their physical structure is almost the same. Prominent cheekbones, cleft chin, defined muscles bulging from the arms, abdomen, and chest. Quake has even perfected the death glare that Cato gave me numerous times in the Games. I wonder if Cato modeled himself after Quake.

Hanging onto Quake like a monkey to a tree is Basa. The two of them are laughing away like a grade school couple. Surrounding them are Silver, Silvia, Enobaria, Opal, Muscida, Saller, and, shockingly, Haymitch.

"Attention!" the woman says. She beats her hand against her microphone a few times so everyone's attention is turned to her. "The Hunger Games Renewal Foundation would like to thank each and every one of you for the examples you've shown to the people of Panem. We are here today, in the arena of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, to induce recollections of everyone's experiences in the Games. That way, you won't be as upset when we announce that the Hunger Games will be making a comeback."

Forty-seven victors are left with open jaws and loss of air at this announcement.

"What was that?" someone screams, several yards away from me. As could be expected, it's Johanna. "Did you just say you're bringing the Games back? That wasn't part of the deal!" Johanna starts stomping towards the blonde woman furiously. "Are you kidding me? This has to be some kind of joke."

"Why would it be a-" the woman begins.

Johanna cuts her off. She's inches away from the woman now and towers over her. Johanna's arms are crossed, hands clenched into tight fists, and eyes narrowed, daring the woman to cross her. "Because I _know_ you aren't going against Katniss Everdeen's agreement with President Paylor."

"It was her idea," the woman says simply.

"Was it? Because a law was written into the Panem Constitution thirteen years ago that stated there were to be no more Hunger Games." Johanna sees the woman's blank expression and laughs loudly. "Ha! You didn't see me pulling that one out of my ass, did you?"

"Miss Mason, I encourage you to remain calm."

Johanna steps forward and shoves a finger in her face. "People like _you_ are the reason I hate living. Our children are damn well going to _die_! I will _not_ remain calm!"

The woman makes a strange gesture to a cameraman standing a short distance away. The man places his camera on the ground carefully and handcuffs Johanna.

"Johanna!" I scream. I'm beginning to panic again. I spin around and plant my hands on Peeta's chest. "Peeta, they're arresting her. They're arresting her for speaking out. They're breaking the law, I made the deal with Paylor. They're going to kill our kids, Peeta; we can't let them."

I'm crying now. Peeta removed my hands from his shirt and holds them tightly. "They're not going to kill them," he says.

"They're bringing the Games back, Peeta. They're going to reap them!"

"They can't do that, Katniss," he says.

Haymitch appears beside me now. "I'd like to see these people try to bring the Games back," he says. "There would be another war. That's the last thing these Capitol people want. Besides, Paylor won't allow it. Her own daughter was a tribute."

"She was?" I ask.

"Yeah. A long time ago. She died in the Games," Haymitch replies. "Paylor won't forget that."

His reassuring words are successful in calming my mind, but not my stomach. The butterfly feeling is fluttering through my belly again. It's only a matter of seconds before I'm throwing up in the grass. This happens twice before Peeta asks to take me back to the tram, where we sit until an officer comes to take us back to the Training Center without the others. By a stroke of bad luck, I get sick again on the way back. The officer asks if I need to stop and I try to tell him no, but Peeta tells him to take me to a hospital. I beg the officer to ignore him, but he doesn't.

One hour, two blood tests, and a urination test later, I'm lying on a hospital cot clutching Peeta's hand. "Is there something wrong with me?" I keep asking him.

"Medicine has advanced more than I thought since we were last in the Capitol," Peeta says. "We'll know what's wrong soon. The tests shouldn't take much longer to run."

Ten minutes later, someone knocks on our door. "Come in," Peeta says.

In walks a doctor wearing dull pink scrubs and ugly white shoes. "Hi, I'm Dr. McMauser. You must be Peeta and Katniss Mellark. I was a big fan of your Games," she says.

Peeta covers for my displeased look by thanking her, although it is a little less than sincere. "Is she okay?" he asks the doctor.

The doctor nods. "Definitely. We're still waiting on the results from the second blood test, but we have a good hunch. Mrs. Mellark, I'm going to ask you a few questions while we wait."

"Okay," I say.

Dr. McMauser picks up an electronic tablet and clicks a few things on the screen before reading out the first question. "Do you have a history of diabetes, heart disease, lung disease, liver disease-?" She continues reading from a list of diseases and illness that I don't have.

"No," I say.

"Okay, next question. Have you experienced abdominal cramping at all this month, especially before or after vomiting?"

"No," I say.

"Good. Have you experienced any dizziness or become unexplainably confused lately?"

I nod. "A little, I guess."

"Okay." She checks a box on her tablet. "Any strange weight gain or change in appetite?"

"I don't think so," I reply.

"Mood swings?"

I catch Peeta nodding out of the corner of my eye. I shoot him a glare, which he returns with a sugary sweet smile.

"When was your last period?"

"Five weeks ago," I say.

"On average, how far apart are your menstrual cycles?"

"Five weeks," I say again. She frowns slightly. I mirror this expression, growing worried. "Is that not normal?"

"For most women, cycles are twenty-eight days apart. That doesn't mean you're unhealthy, though. Do you have any children?"

"Two."

"How old?"

"Six and three," I reply.

She types something into the margin of the chart she's filling out on her tablet. "Have you been sexually active recently?"

My eyebrows fly up my forehead and I choke, coughing a few times. "Why is that a question?"

"Most doctors ask this," she replies evenly.

"Um . . ." I fumble for words. All I come up with is, "How recent?"

"Since October of this year."

I'm all too aware of my husband sitting in the armchair beside me. We've barely so much as touched as of late. But then there was a couple of nights ago. . . . And Gale, of course. If I tell the truth now, it won't take Peeta long to figure out who I slept with besides him.

The doctor catches on to my tentativeness. "I can ask your husband to leave if it would make you feel more comfortable."

I look between Peeta and the doctor, torn between her offer and being honest with him. "Peeta," I begin.

"Whatever makes you comfortable," he says. I'm surprised when he walks out of the room and shuts the door behind him without another word. Dr. McMauser has her focus only on me now.

"Twice," I say.

"With the same man?"

I narrow my eyes skeptically. "Is that any of your business?"

"It's a required question," she says.

"Peeta was the most recent," I say, withholding further details.

"And when was that?" she asks.

"I don't know. Saturday night, I think."

Her fake, typical doctor smile disappears. It's replaced by a frown, which proves unreadable as I try to decipher its meaning. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she says and leaves quietly.

I watch the clock impatiently, counting the minutes that pass before she returns. I end up with six minutes.

"I have the results of your tests," she says, coming to stand at the side of my cot. She hands me three packets of stapled papers. "Here they are."

I examine them closely. "What does this mean?" I ask. I point to a "P" in the corner of each sheet. "What did I test positive for?"

Dr. McMauser's poker face becomes one of happiness. A grin spreads across her cheeks. "You tested positive on both blood tests and the urination test. Congratulations, Mrs. Mellark."

My brow furrows in confusion at first. But then I understand. Then it makes sense. The sickness, the disorientation, the mood swings, the questions she asked me. "You mean-"

"You're pregnant."

With those two words, my world is turned upside down. Fear runs laps through my veins and back up to my pounding heart.

I'm pregnant.

To make matters worse, the doctor's questionnaire has led to my ultimate realization that I'm not carrying my husband's child. I'm carrying the child of my best friend, my little sister's husband. I'm carrying the sibling - but also the cousin - of my nephew, Lane.

 _What have you done?_

I'm beginning to feel nauseous again. My hands automatically clutch at my stomach. It's still flat. Could the doctors be wrong? But it's too early to see any growth. That won't be the deciding factor in the reality of my pregnancy.

 _What have you done?_

No matter what I say or do, one way or another, Peeta will find out that it iisn't his. Whether he learns now or eight months from now is beyond my control.

 _What have you done?_

The escorted car ride back to the Training Center is a silent one. It seems that all of the victors have gotten word of my visit to the hospital. Fortunately, no one seems to have heard the details of the visit. Even Peeta doesn't know. For now, I've decided it's best to remain silent about my state. Better he find out later in the week, when we're back in District 12 without the cameras and interviews and reporters. I am choosing not to tell Gale, either. Besides, I'd rather not share it with anyone for another couple of months. What if a freak accident happened between now and then and I lost the baby? Then I would've caused unnecessary trouble. Of course, I want to avoid that at all costs. Already, I feel my maternal, protective sense wrapping an invisible shield around this child, promising to keep it safe.

When I step onto the twelfth floor, Effie trots over to me, expertly maneuvering the furniture in the room in her designer heels. "Oh, Katniss, I heard what happened. I am just _so_ glad you're okay."

"What?" I say.

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "I've tried to explain to her that you aren't actually sick. She won't listen."

Peeta looks at me, confused. "Katniss, you never told me what the doctor told you."

I am saved from answering him when the elevator doors open and Johanna and Annie walk in.

"Hey, Katniss," Annie says while embracing me. "We came to-"

Johanna interrupts her. "We came to let you know that the Games are off. That blonde bitch was some Capitol news anchor. Someone said her and her camera crew were hired by some celebrity news program to take us to the arena and claim the Games were back on to get a rise out of us. I think some of District 1 knew who she was. That's why they didn't react much. It sure seemed to work on you, though."

"It worked on you, too," I point out.

"Whatever. So now you've heard the good news." Her tightly drawn lips and tense stance tell me that that's not all she has to share with me. "But there's also bad news. I've gotten word that a number of soldiers from District Thirteen and citizens of District Twelve who were previously pronounced dead are still alive."

I feel my eyes grow to the size of saucers. My heartbeat quickens to an unhealthy rate and my thoughts pull my mind in a thousand different directions. "Who?" I ask quickly.

"I don't know anyone for sure yet," Johanna replies. She shoots Annie a sideways look. I can tell that Annie's hopes are much higher than they should be. But I can hardly blame her; I would react the same way if there was a possibility of one of my loved ones being-

"Prim," I say. It's not a statement, not a question, not a realization. It's a name. The name of my sister who I have a chancd of finding now.

Everyone stops talking to look at me.

"Prim," I say again. My voice sounds almost robotic. I turn to Johanna. "Is she okay? Are we going to find her?"

Johanna's eyes fill with something I can't describe. Is it pity? Sympathy? Reason? I don't know. "I'll do everything I can. If she's out there, Ill find her. That's a promise."

A small smile turns up the corners of my mouth. A whispered "thank you" is all I can say.

Johanna closes the distance between us and hugs me. I can honestly say that I don't think Johanna has ever - in all my years of knowing her - even so much as considered hugging me. But right now, it's as if we share something. Some kind of special bond that I've never had with her before.

"If she's out there, we'll find her," Johanna says into my ear. She pulls back and holds me at arms length. "Got it?"

I nod and smile. "Thanks."

"What's the bad news?" Peeta asks.

Annie looks away and refuses to meet our eyes. Johanna crosses her arms. "Well," Johanna says. "If those people really are alive, we're going to have to launch a rescue mission like the one District 13 took on to save me, Peeta, and Annie from the Capitol. The rescue mission would be a secret, so we'd need soldiers to sign up. But I don't trust Panem's soldiers with this. So that means-"

"We have to volunteer," I say quietly.

"Yeah," Johanna says.

There is silence throughout the room as her words sink in. I'm re-enlisting in the military - kind of. The only difference is this time, I won't be joining a team of amateur rebel soldiers.

Peeta is the first to break the silence. He smiles wildly. "Looks like Squad 451 is back."

* * *

 **A/N: Squad 451 is back! Obviously, half of the team is dead, so in your reviews, please tell me who you think should be part of it! Johanna, Katniss, Peeta, and Gale are given members. Let me know your ideas.**

 **I want to say that I understand that some of you might be angry that this is what's forcing Katniss and Gale together, but THAT IS UNTRUE. Katniss wil decide on her own without this as in influence in coming chapters. I promise that this story will be much better than you think right now. We're just currently in the stressful part of the plot right now, but we're coming out of it soon and jumping into the mystery/drama/action/romance part.**

 **As always, thanks for the support and reviews. I truly appreciate all of you sticking with me thrpughout my computer problems. But I have it fixed now, so I'll go back to updating more regularly. Like I did before, I'll try to post every Tuesday and Saturday again. Please Don't forget to review this chapter and tell me what you think!**


	26. Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

"It's time for coaching!" Effie announces excitedly. She comes running towards me. "I get to take care of you first."

She takes me by the hand and begins dragging me off to my bedroom. As the door closes, I catch Peeta being taken to Haymitch's room. He looks annoyed and reluctant, but at least he isn't being drug - literally - by the hand.

"Why are we being coached?" I ask.

"Because your interviews are tomorrow!"

"But I already know how to do interviews," I complain.

"You haven't been interviewed in fourteen years, Katniss," Effie reminds me. "You need a refresher."

So we go through the motions the same as we used to. Effie drills me until I could sleepwalk in heels. She reminds me of how to sit properly. And she teaches me etiquette because, according to her, adulthood has not taught me the ways of a lady.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Haymitch and Effie give me and Peeta a short break. Then we switch off - Peeta goes with Effie and I go with Haymitch.

"Have fun," he mouths at me over his shoulder as Effie practically skips down the hall, her arm linked with Peeta's.

I stick my tongue out at him and turn back around. Haymitch is leading me to his room now, where he'll teach me good answers to all of Caesar's possible questions, help me figure out my angle, and make sure I look alive.

"Alright, sit down, sweetheart. We've got a lot of work today," he says once the door is closed and we're both inside.

"I already know my angle and how to be interviewed," I say. "What more do I need?"

"You're wrong. You _don't_ have your angle and you _don't_ know how to be interviewed," he retorts.

I cross my arms and glare at him.

"Making killer eyes at me isn't going to help. Now sit down and let's get to work."

I sit down in one of the two armchairs that he's dragged into the middle of the room. They're facing each other. He's also set up one of those lamps that detectives use in the old movies when they're interrogating someone. Since this is the only light in the room, it has to sit close to the chairs. This casts a strange shadow over him but almost completely illuminates me.

"We're discussing your angle first," Haymitch says. "What do you think you should go for?"

"Last time, you told me just to be myself," I say.

"I also told you to try to be charming. You were a little nervous the first time around."

I remember my interview with Caesar before my first Games. I was incredibly awkward from start to finish. When I stepped on the stage, I was so stunned by the huge crowd that I didn't hear Caesar's first question. It got better after I twirled and my dress appeared to turn to flames.

"It could've been better," I agree.

"Your second interview was great. You joked with Caesar, made the audience laugh, and your stylist made you look amazing. This time around, it's all you. And with all the hype surrounding your love triangle, you can either play this right or completely wrong. Your choice."

I eye him for a moment, considering my options. Listening to Haymitch has always worked for me in the past. But he's never had to coach me through a rumor as big as this. Taking his advice is a risk, but doing my own thing is an even bigger risk. "I'm listening," I say.

"Okay. I've given this a lot of thought."

"I can tell," I interrupt. "You're sober again."

"Are you going to listen or not?" he asks. He waits a few seconds for my assumed agreement, then continues. "As I was saying, your first option is to go for the smothering mother."

"Smothering mother?" I say.

"You've seen them before. The mothers that can't seem to leave their kids alone. The obsessive type."

"I can't pull that off," I say.

"Then that brings us to option two. Girl in love. You've been playing that card since you were sixteen. I'm sure you still have it in you."

An edge of doubt sneaks into my voice. "It's easy to pretend to be in love when you're young. But not when you're my age. Not when you've been married for as long as I have."

"Marriage doesn't have to be part of it. You have two choices. Girl in love with Peeta who had a misunderstanding with the press about her relationship with her cousin. Or, girl in love with her friend who's not really her cousin and wants a second chance at love because her marriage has failed."

"My marriage hasn't failed," I say.

"It has because they think it has," Haymitch replies.

"But what if I can change their minds?" I ask.

Haymitch leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"We tell them I'm pregnant."

He jerks forward and flings his arms onto the armrests to catch himself. "What?" he exclaims. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I am," I say.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head repeatedly like he's trying to forget something. "No. No, no, no. No, you don't seem to get it, Katniss. The reporters will eat you alive. The Capitol will tear you down and use you as an example. The districts will hate you. You can't just say things without considering the consequences."

"I know the consequences. I can handle them."

"You can't," Haymitch insists. "Are you really pregnant?"

"Yeah."

"Whose . . . ?" he trails off.

"Gale," I admit. "I think it's Gale's."

Haymitch snorts. "Let me get this straight. Your plan is to tell the audience that your marriage is just fine, and back it up by saying another man got you pregnant?"

"No. We back it up by saying it's Peeta's."

We stare at each other. Haymitch is considering my proposition and I am gauging his reaction. "We can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it would hurt the boy," says Haymitch.

"I don't see how."

"Let's look at it this way: you tell Panem that the baby is Peeta's. Hunter boy hates you and refuses to see you because of it. Some odd months from now, you've just had your baby. Peeta doesn't have an ounce of Seam in him, so it's evident right off the bat that it's not his. He's angry because he was led to believe it was his, and your friend's mad because he was led to believe it wasn't his."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" I yell.

"Tell the truth," he replies simply.

"You act like it would be easy."

"It would be," he says.

"It wouldn't, though, because I love them both. And I can't let one of them go for the other. I can't do that."

Haymitch gives me a sympathetic look. He leans forward and pats my shoulder. But I'm not in the mood to be comforted or pitied.

"What do I do?" I ask, distressed.

He smiles sadly, his mouth turned sideways. "You accept that you're screwed."

* * *

An hour later, we're all in the dining room for supper. It feels like it's been an eternity since I've had a meal without the other victors, although I've had plenty. I'm not feeling very talkative, though.

Haymitch swore to secrecy regarding my pregnancy. I can't let anyone know. Not until tomorrow, at least. Not until I tell the entirety of Panem.

He's left the my angle up to me. I think he finally understands what a complicated situation I've put myself in. I'm torn between two families now. A family that I don't have yet, and a family that's already here. And with his realization came one of my own. I won't be able to raise children of two different fathers. They'll make me choose.

"Katniss and Peeta, you should share angles so no one is taken by surprise," Effie says, snapping me out of my thoughts.

"Yeah, um, I don't think that's such a good idea," Haymitch objects.

"Why not?" Peeta asks. "I'm fine with sharing."

"But we're not going to," Haymitch says quickly before Peeta can continue.

Peeta looks between me and Haymitch. "Is there something going on?"

Haymitch shoots me a _help me!_ look when Peeta isn't looking. I have to pretend that I'm as clueless as Peeta. "Yeah, Haymitch. What's going on?"

"Nothing," Haymitch says. "They just asked the victors not to share this time. Something about the surprise factor."

Peeta gives me a confused look, which I pretend to share. I even throw in a shrug for effect.

We finish our supper relatively quietly. Effie wants to go over a few last minute details of the interviews with us after the meal. I tell her that I'm not feeling well and want to go on to bed, but she claims it's important and I'm forced to stay.

The interview process will be similar to the interviews done for the Games. It will go district by district in numerical order. Victors go in increasing order of their Games. In me and Peeta's situation, I will go before he does. If a victor is deceased or not present, they will be honored at the point in the show when they would be interviewed. At the end of the interviews tomorrow night, Caesar will take a twenty minute break to pick the twenty-four most interesting victors. Then he will come back onstage and announce them. These victors be interviewed again Thursday night. (" _Of course, we'll go over what will be expected of you, should you be chosen," Effie says._ )

We should expect to be asked about anything and everything that has happened in these last thirteen years since the Games ended. Unlike our Hunger Games interviews, Caesar can and will show photos and video clips, ask personal questions, and possibly invite a guest on the stage with us. We are not to object to any of these things, as it will make us look badly.

These interviews can last up to ten minutes. If Caesar is getting bored or doesn't like the way an interview is going and wishes to cut it short, he can. However, he cannot go beyond the designated time limit.

I am almost ready to go home and ditch the rest of the trip when Effie reminds us that this is our chance to set straight any untrue rumor, make known any problems or ideas, and make announcements. I feel the familiar butterflies in my belly and remember why I'm still here and why I need to stay. Without the people in the Capitol, I will have no support system. And without a support system, this child will have no hope. It will become another piece of Capitol trash that is chewed up and spit out whenever they feel is right.

There was a girl who lived in my section of the Seam, Rayleigh Staywright. She was two years above me in school, so we didn't talk much. She was absolutely beautiful. She had this long, straight hair that was so dark, it was almost black. And dark eyelashes that were so thick, they'd get tangled together. There were a few freckles on her olive cheeks and her lips were dark pink. Anyway, Rayleigh's father was a close childhood friend of my father's, so he told me their story once. Rayleigh's father was married when he started seeing her mother, who was single. He got her pregnant and she gave birth to Rayleigh, but not before her father's wife found out. She divorced him at the Justice Building and took their three sons with her. Rayleigh never knew her half-brothers. The moral shame that most of the district cast upon her and her parents kept them from ever marrying and led her mother to kill herself. I think that's why my father always sang _The Hanging Tree_ to me. And why it was so important to him that I knew the meaning of the song.

It's this story that sticks in my head as I think of my family's future. This baby will never grow up like it should. It will suffer among unaccepting people and judgmental strangers, no matter whose child it is.

Peeta and the others are still watching television when I decide to go to my room. What little energy I have left over from the day is spent unmaking the bed and changing into pajamas. So I collapse on the bed with my hair still in a braid and my face dirty from the day's adventures.

The telephone built into the wall beside my bed begins to ring just as my head hits the pillow. I groan but roll over and remove the phone from its hook. "Hello?" I growl.

"Katniss," says the person on the other end.

"Who is this?" I ask.

"Gale."

My face wrinkles up from confusion. This voice barely sounds like Gale, but I suppose everyone sounds differently on the phone.

"Hey," I say and relax back into my pillow. My hand lays across my face and covers my eyes while the other hand holds the phone to my ear, letting my eyelids close and rest.

"Are you alone?" he asks.

"Yeah. Why did you call me? Peeta knows you're here. You could've just asked me to meet you somewhere."

"I just wanted to see if you'd answer," Gale says.

"Why wouldn't I?"

He ignores my question. "Is it just me, or is the phone reception bad here?"

In other words, _Are these phones tapped?_

"Yeah, I was getting that, too," I reply.

"Well, I have one more thing to tell you. In your interview, I need you to tell the truth about us. Promise me. No lying."

"Gale, I can't-"

"Promise me," he interrupts.

"I promise," I sigh.

"Hopefully, I'll see you tomorrow night. I love you." He pauses to see if I'll return his words.

"Love you," I say quietly. "Hey, Gale?"

"Yeah?"

"I'll be thinking about you."

"Me, too," he whispers. Then he hangs up.

I put the phone back on its hook and turn off the lamp beside my bed. Then I roll over onto my side, facing the wall instead of the door. Today's events are running through my head now. The Games, the news anchor, the arena, the pregnancy.

One of my hands finds its way down to my stomach and tentatively touches it. Other than the stretched skin from my two other pregnancies, my stomach is fairly flat and in shape. And since this is still early on in the pregnancy, there are no physical signs of it yet. Nonetheless, my hands caress the place where a tiny living thing is growing inside me.

I'm exhausted and fall asleep quickly. I'm awakened a few hours later when Peeta enters the room and climbs into bed next to me. He leans over to kiss my cheek, thinking that I'm sleeping.

"Hey," I whisper through the darkness. I roll over to face him.

"Hey," he says. His eyes find where my hands are still touching my stomach. "Stomachache?"

I follow his gaze and see that I'm curled up in a position that does look remotely like someone with a stomachache. "Yeah," I lie.

We proceed in a little more light conversation before going to sleep. But it's this small talk with him that makes me realize that I have to tell him the truth before he finds out in front of the entire country tomorrow night. Haymitch's idea to surprise each other with our angles would be a great idea if it weren't for this.

Venia, Octavia, and Flavius act as my alarm clock in the morning. The actual clock across the room reads 11:00 a.m.

"You let me sleep in late," I comment.

"Yes, we thought you needed it!" Octavia says. "Effie told us you weren't feeling well."

"I'm fine," I say. "But thank you."

They don't waste any time in getting me ready. Venia curls my naturally wavy hair. The front pieces of my hair have been swept away to the back of my head by a braid. Octavia makes sure there are no stray or unwanted hairs on my body and dyes my eyelashes black. Flavius applies my makeup: rose gold eyeshadow, dark brown eyeliner applied in a thin line and smudged along my top eyelid, flawless makeup applied to my entire face and neck, light pink cream blended into the apples of my cheeks, and a shimmery pink lipgloss.

For the first time ever, I'm allowed to look at their work before Amanda comes in. "This is really pretty," I say. "It's very natural-looking."

"Thank you," Flavius says, accepting the compliment that was extended to all of them. "Amanda told us we're going for feminine tonight."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow, but none of them have any more information than I do.

They leave and Amanda enters half an hour later, carrying a garment bag and a shoe box. "I'm sure your prep team told you that we're going for feminine tonight."

"They did," I say.

"Haymitch wanted it to be something that could be worn by a girl in love. Something cheerful and girlish," Amanda explains.

"Can I see it?" I ask.

"After you get dressed."

Amanda tells me to close my eyes and helps me slip into the dress and shoes. Then she adjusts my hair so that it cascades over my shoulders and down my back. Only then does she tell me to open my eyes.

"It's beautiful," I breathe. I spin twice in a small circle to get the effect of it from every angle.

The dress looks like it is meant for someone my age. At least I have a stylist who's capable of that, unlike many of the victors here this week. It's made of light pink, thick sweater fabric that hugs my upper body and flows out at the waist. The bottom of my dress reaches just above the tops of my knees. Around my neck is a gold scarf made of wool. My shoes are brown leather boots, only these are of a higher quality leather than my hunting boots back in District 12. I wear gold knee socks above them.

"You like it?" Amanda asks.

"I love it," I say happily. "Looks like something I'd wear in Twelve."

"I thought so, too," she smiles. "But we can't forget the finishing touch."

Amanda takes a small, golden object from her pocket, which I recognize as my mockingjay pin, and pins it to my scarf. The last time I saw the pin, I was taking it away from Maysi. And before it was given to her, it was in Lane's possession. "Where did you get that?" I ask.

"Peeta thought you'd appreciate if I used it in one of my designs for you," she tells me.

"I love it," I say again.

"I'm glad."

By now, it's three o'clock and time to head backstage for Caesar's show tonight, which begins in an hour. He films in his own studio now, unlike when he interviewed tributes on a stage outside the Tribute Center. Effie and Haymitch still have a few last words for me. After listening to them lecture me about my stage presence for forty minutes, Peeta shows up.

"Peeta," I say. "I need to talk to you."

"There's no time for that!" Effie says. "Peeta is running late and we still have to go over his stage presentation!"

She rushes him off into a corner of the room and begins fussing at him. Haymitch is still standing a few feet away from me though, so I walk over to him. "I have to warn him," I say quietly.

Haymitch looks horrified. "You can't," he says. "Not if you aren't sure which way you're going with this."

"I can't lie to him. I decided on the truth. Girls go first, and-"

"And you can't feed him to the wolves," Haymitch finishes for me. "I get it."

"So I can tell him?"

Haymitch shrugs. "It's going to suck for you whatever you do. May as well be blunt."

Effie and Peeta are coming back now. "I think the three of you are ready to go on stage now!" Effie says.

"Well, it'll be a while before we can," Peeta says.

He's right. There's forty-seven victors here, which means that there are forty-four victors that will be taking the stage before me. Assuming each of their interviews last for a full ten minutes - which they won't, but theoretically speaking - we should be here for hours.

Caesar Flickerman's opening music booms from inside the studio.

"Come on," Effie says. She rushes Haymitch, Peeta, and I into the backstage wings, although there's so many people here that we're not even really standing in the wings.

We watch the show, which is airing live, on a television monitor backstage. Caesar's booming voice echoes through the entire studio even without a microphone, though, and I can hear him from where I stand. He gives his opening introductions, then begins speaking.

"We'll kick off the evening by starting at the district of diamonds, as I like to call it. But you know it as District 1! Our first guest of the evening is Struve Ballantynn."

District 1 interviews pass by slowly. Since almost all of them were Career tributes and those are often the favorites with the crowd, Caesar allows them to use up their entire ten minutes.

Then comes District 2. Quake's interview is annoying, as I expected it to be. He comes off as downright self-absorbed. He speaks incessantly of working out, girls, partying, and drinking. By the end of his interview, I'm convinced that he may be the most confident man I've ever met, but also the most despicable.

Beetee is interviewed with District 3. He's a fidgety, quirky man. Caesar has to cut his interview short because Beetee is continuing to speak out against the Games as if they never ended. This was probably brought on by our little field trip yesterday, which seems to have shaken up a good portion of us.

Mags, an older woman who walked into poisonous fog in order to save Peeta in our Quell, is honored at the beginning of the District 4 interviews. Caesar gives a brief description of her life and death, then moves on. Muscida Selkirk of District 4 is by far the oldest victor present. She was the victor of the 17th Hunger Games and seems to have had problems with her brain in the past. Possibly, she had a stroke. Next is the honoring of two victors, Librae Ogilby and Finnick Odair. I can't help but glance at Annie across the room when Finnick's name is called and a speech is given about him. She's not fighting back the tears that are smearing powder down her face. Her stylist is twisting her neck to cover Annie's face with more makeup. Another deceased victor, Ron Stafford, who died on his Victory Tour from drug overdose, is mentioned. Next, they call Annie's name. She steps out on the stage wearing a loose turquoise dress that looks like it would be fit to wear on a walk along the beach.

Caesar greets her with a big hug. I can tell he's wondering if she's still mad. And how would he know she's okay? Besides her wedding propo, no one here has seen her since Mags volunteered for her at the reaping for the Quarter Quell fourteen years ago. And given her mental history, I wouldn't blame anyone for assuming she stayed mad after Finnick died.

"Hi, Annie Cresta. Or should I say, Annie Odair?" Caesar jokes. "Some of us never knew of the marriage between you and the sexiest man of the Capitol, Finnick Odair. So please, let's describe it for them. When did it take place?"

"It happened while we were in District 13, after the Quarter Quell," she says. "It was a small, private wedding gathering. In the middle of our honeymoon - which could barely be considered a honeymoon, since we were trapped underground in District Thirteen - he went off to the Capitol to fight. That's when he died."

Annie swipes a tear from under her eye. Caesar watches her sadly. "We are so very sorry for your loss, Annie. But you became joyful after, right? Tell us about that."

"A few months later, my son was born. Cress Odair. He's thirteen years old," Annie says.

"That's wonderful. I wish you both the best of luck in the future. Thank you, Annie Cresta!"

After that comes Districts 5 and 6. Then comes District 7. Johanna comes out on stage wearing a skin tight black tank and short, black shorts made of leather.

"Whoa, ho, ho!" Caesar chuckles when he sees her. "That's quite an outfit, Ms. Mason. What do you call those, erm, _pants_ of yours?"

"They're called booty shorts, Caesar," she answers proudly. She turns her back to the audience and shows off the shorts from each side. The crowd hoots and hollers loudly.

Johanna sits down and crosses her legs. "I think it's time for me to conduct an interview," she says.

Caesar raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah."

"Unfortunately, I don't think that's allowed, so I'll be conducting the interview today," Caesar tells her. "My first question for you is, what have you been doing for these thirteen years?"

"I've been partying. Because you have to fight for your right to party. And man, did we fight for it. So I might as well. Besides, I have more than enough money to live off of for the rest of my life without working."

"Sounds good enough for me," says Caesar. "Now, Johanna. We've all been wondering, have you found a man you're interested in?"

Johanna scoffs and looks out to the crowd. "No! If you want me to find one so bad, then how about raise one that's worth my time." She turns back to Caesar. "People ask me that more than you think. It's like they pity me. But I'm an independent person. I don't need to be tied down in a relationship. Romance isn't for me. It makes me sick to my stomach."

Johanna's interview lasts the whole ten minutes. She's a favorite in the Capitol, and therefore one of the victors they're willing to spend time on.

After that are Districts 8 and 9. Basa from District 9 spends her ten minutes playing a game that Caesar made up for her. She had to see how many men she could seduce before five minutes were up. It was revolting, to say the least. Then, Caesar discussed her post-Games life, and her time was up. Then District 10 went, then District 11.

"Now we'll be interviewing our beloved victors of District 12. Our first victor is Haymitch Abernathy, who won the second Quarter Quell. Haymitch, come on out!"

Peeta and I each give Haymitch a slap on the back. He closes his eyes, takes a long, deep breath, and waits until he has exhaled completely before he steps onto the stage. As the lights hit his face, a snarky smile crosses his face. It's the same smile I remember seeing on the tape of his interview with Caesar before his Quell. The crowd screams for him as he begins fist pumping the air and doing a series of other actions that I never expected to see from him.

I can only imagine how hard this must be for Haymitch. He hasn't been on this stage in thirty-eight years. He turned to alcohol consumption to avoid the memory of it. This has to be worse for him than it is for most of the other victors here.

Caesar motions for Haymitch to take a seat, then begins the interview. "Haymitch, it's been a while since we've seen you here. Of course, we saw you as a mentor to our favorite star-crossed lovers. There were thirty-eight years worth of Hunger Games losses for District Twelve until they came along. How can you explain their victory?"

Haymitch looks out to the crowd, then back at Caesar. "Humans love romance. It's what we were made to do. We were made to love and be loved. I think that's what made Katniss and Peeta's love story so real and so entrancing. And besides that, we're talking about young love. Both of them were sixteen at the time. You have Peeta talking about how he's loved Katniss since they were five, but she's never noticed him. Hopeless crushes. All of us can relate to that."

"I agree completely," Caesar says. "Did you train Katniss or Peeta in any way? Did you change your game plan, or did they have one of their own?"

"I didn't train them in the least," Haymitch answers. "But they did smack some sense into me." Haymitch turns toward the wings and grins at Peeta and me. We smile back and wave at the cameras, which are pointed at us to catch our reactions.

Caesar claps his hands together happily. "How cute! Look everybody, it's Peeta and Katniss!" He lets the crowd's cheers die down before he continues. "Let's move on to something more serious. Current events, if you will. There is news surrounding your district's victors. Do you know what I'm referring to?"

Haymitch's features harden. He swallows something and then nods. "I'm afraid I do."

"It's rather unfortunate isn't it?" Caesar turns to the audience. "For those of you who don't know, there are rumors circulating that Katniss Mellark and a male friend have been . . . mingling."

The crowd gives a combined gasp, even though the majority of them already knew. Caesar looks back to Haymitch. "What is your take on this gossip?"

Haymitch glares at him. "My take on it isn't really meant to be discussed. Yours isn't either, as a matter of fact. Leave the girl alone."

There's a long period of silence in which everyone seems to be holding their breath. Even the other victors, who have taken a seat in the bleachers near the back of the stage after their interviews, seem to be in shock. For Haymitch to say such a thing, to speak out against Caesar Flickerman and the media, is unheard of. Then, I see it. One person in the audience, seated in the very back of the studio, gets to his feet and extends three fingers to Haymitch. Then another person stands, then another, and another, until the entire studio is on their feet and gesturing to him. Even the other victors are on their feet and participating. Haymitch seems genuinely moved by the gesture, but he maintains his grudge. Meanwhile, Caesar stays seated with his jaw open in awe.

"Well, my apologies are extended to you, Mr. Abernathy. I think it's time that you take a break. Thank you for your time."

Haymitch gives him a curt nod and goes to sit in the bleachers with the other victors. He catches my eye as I stand in the wings, ready to go on stage.

"Thank you," I mouth to him. He gives me a small nod in return.

Caesar stands and clasps his hands together. "We all remember our next victor as the girl who volunteered for her little sister in the reaping, the Girl on Fire, and one of the star-crossed lovers of District 12. But she is best known as the symbol of Panem's last rebellion. Please give a warm _Caesar Show_ welcome to our Mockingjay, Katniss Mellark!"

As soon as I move out of the shadows of the wings, I am blinded by the stage lights. I squint for a moment until my eyes adjust to the brightness. Then I continue walking to my chair. I wave to the screaming audience for a few seconds before I sit down.

"Hi, Caesar," I say. I wear the cheekiest smile I possibly can.

"Hi, Katniss," he says with a goofy grin. "I'm in love with your dress. Your stylist did fabulous. I must say, speaking of your stylist, she looks distinctly familiar. Would you mind telling us her name?"

"Amanda Tilling," I answer. "She's the niece of my old stylist, Cinna."

The crowd breaks into an enormous round of applause. "I think you'd better take a bow, Amanda!" Caesar says.

Amanda, who's seated in the front row between Effie and Portia, stands and waves. The television monitor at the bottom of the stage shows the cameras zooming in to get a shot of my stylist. She sits back down and the crowd gets back under control.

"Such a beautiful ensemble," Caesar gushes. "So, Katniss, catch us up. What have you been doing since the Games?"

"Peeta and I got married," I say. The crowd sighs in happiness.

"It was bound to happen someday, right?" Caesar jokes. "Have you been working, or keeping up with friends?"

"Peeta owns his own bakery and I stay at home with our kids."

"Oh, kids!" Caesar giggles like a little girl and claps his hands excitedly. "How many? What are their names? Tell us everything."

"Our oldest is six years old, and her name is Maysilee. And our youngest just turned three. His name is Willard."

"What cute names!" Caesar exclaims. "Do you mind telling us what inspired them?"

"Maysilee is named after Maysilee Donner. She was a tribute from my district in Haymitch's Games. She was also a friend of my mother, and my friend's aunt. My mockingjay pin originally belonged to her. And Willard is named after his uncle, Peeta's older brother. He died when District Twelve was bombed, with the rest of Peeta's family."

Caesar looks truly touched. "That's beautiful. Let's give her a round of applause!" Once the applause quiets down, he says, "Katniss, you've heard the rumors."

I knew he would ask, but so soon? He's on the ball tonight. I nod. "Yes, I've heard them."

"Tonight is your chance to set it all straight. All of us here are wondering . . . Is it true?"

I look down at my hands. Then I look behind me. I search the bleachers for him. Haymitch gives me a small, encouraging nod. _Give them the truth and they can't tear you apart_ , he's trying to tell me. I turn back to the crowd.

"I'm not the most honest person in a room. I've lied to a lot of people. I have a lot of apologies to give. But I think what all of you need is the truth."

"Well, we'd love to hear it," Caesar encourages me.

"The truth is, I . . . cheated on Peeta. More than once."

The crowd gasps, as if they didn't know this already from the pictures plastered on magazine covers.

Caesar's eyes are wider than frisbees. "So it's-"

"It's true," I finish. "And I have to admit something else. No one knows this yet. Just me."

I look out into the crowd again, and as if by magnetic force, my eyes immediately meet Gale's familiar silver-gray ones. He looks confused and embarrassed, but completely in love. How can someone who helped me commit so much sin be so perfect?

I take a deep breath in preparation for my next confession. "I'm pregnant."

This time, gasps echo throughout the entire studio. Then it gets silent. So silent, I can hear someone in the back of the studio shuffling their feet under their chair uncomfortably. Caesar seems to be at a loss for words, but the cameras certainly aren't. They have panned out to capture every victor's reaction to my news. But now they're zoomed in on Peeta, who looks like he could throw up. Surely, in the few seconds since my announcement, he has figured out the truth.

"You're pregnant?" Caesar asks once he's regained his composure, although he still is pretty shaken, as is everyone else.

"Yes," I say.

"And who would the father of this child be?" he asks.

My eyes find Gale's again and lock him in my stare. I don't move my eyes from him. In the moments before I reply, I see his realization. He knows my answer before I speak it. But I say it anyway.

"Gale Hawthorne."

* * *

 **A/N: I loved writing the interview scenes in this chapter. Caesar is such a fun character to write, too. Next chapter, you'll read Peeta's interview and Caesar's after-party.**

 **For those of you who are wondering why Katniss is so sure that the baby is Gale's, it's because she slept with Peeta three nights prior to the night of the interviews, and she slelt with Gale over a month ago. So she's assuming that it can't be Peeta's because there wouldn't be symptoms so early on (and if we're being scientifically accurate, she's right). I hope that clears things up, but if you have anymore questions then please feel free to ask!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please don't forget to leave a review with any thoughts, suggestions, or questions you may have!**


	27. Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27

The crowd's initial shock turns to one of outrage. Their judgements are verbal now. They make no effort to conceal their increased hatred for me. _How dare you commit this terrible adultery? How dare you betray this man, your husband, who loves you? How dare you conceive another man's child? How dare you!_

I still have my eyes pointed at Gale but he has dropped his away from me. The cameras are trying to find him in the audience. When they do, he looks up at himself on one of the giant screens in the room. Then he shakes his head and looks down again. I wish I knew what he was thinking right now.

"The father is the man you've been having an affair with? Not Peeta?" Caesar asks. I nod my confirmation. "Well, that's certainly a twist in our story. How long have you known about this?"

"I just found out yesterday," I reply.

"Did he know?"

"He does now," I say.

Caesar waits for the crowd to cheer for me and my news. Instead, there is complete silence throughout the room. No one will be applauding me tonight.

Now he clears his throat. I'm sure he's never had an interview like this before. He leans forward in his chair and whispers in my ear, "Go ahead and stand and we'll bring out Peeta."

"Okay," I say, rising to my feet.

Caesar coughs and taps his microphone to get the undivided attention of the lively crowd. "Let's all say goodnight and congratulations to our Girl on Fire!"

I climb the bleachers and sit beside Haymitch. He pats my shoulder comfortingly and gives me a small smile that is meant to be encouraging. He's trying to distract me from what's happening in the crowd, but it's not lost on me that not a single soul clapped for me as I exited the spotlight. And no one claps for Peeta, either, as Caesar introduces him and he crosses the stage.

I look into the crowd. Gale's seat is empty and he is nowhere to be found. The rest of the onlookers are growing angrier every second they have to look at me. They hate me and love Peeta. I suppose this is nothing new, though. Isn't that how it's always been?

"Peeta," Caesar begins. "It's been quite a chaotic night. Are you ready to finish us out with some answers?"

"Yeah, I think so," Peeta says.

"I think the thing we've all been wondering is, have you known about this?"

Peeta chuckles and looks down. I can see from the screens, which are showing close-up shots of his face, that he's upset. "I knew she was . . . cheating. I saw the magazines."

"And were you mad?" Caesar asks.

"I won't lie and say I wasn't mad. I'm not very possessive, but I love my wife. I'm human. That's natural. But I did try to hide it. I let her do what made her happy because even though she loves me, she loves him, too. And I love her. When you love someone, you have to give up your happiness for theirs. And she wanted Gale. She needed him. So I let her have him."

Everyone in the room seems to give a sorrowful sigh. They pity Peeta, they loathe me.

Caesar pats Peeta's knee. "That's a very kind thing for you to do, Peeta. I think we could all learn from your selflessness."

"Thank you, Caesar," Peeta says. "But there's more to it. You see, we have two kids. Those two kids give us more love than we deserve. They're so sweet and pure. I can't let them hear us when we argue at night. So me and Katniss, we pretend everything's okay. I think my daughter knows something's off, but she's too young to understand."

"So you let Katniss see this man-"

"Gale."

Caesar nods. "Yes, Gale. You let Katniss see Gale, but you don't tell her you're jealous."

"I wouldn't say that. I want her back, but I'm not jealous. There's a way to want something without envying the person who has it. I don't envy Gale. He has a different relationship with Katniss than I do. He's been her best friend since they were in school, and I'm the one she was supposed to kill."

Caesar sits forward, intrigued. "But doesn't it say something that she _didn't_ kill you?"

"I often wonder that. I think, now that it's said and done, it's safe for me to say that I don't think she had feelings for me in that first arena. She cared about getting me home and she was flattered by my feelings for her. So she kept me alive. But during the Quell, she was willing to risk her own life for me. Her and Haymitch had worked out an agreement to get me home. Of course, that didn't happen, but it's the thought that counts, right?" Peeta smiles weakly. "She helped me through the war and cared for me after. We fell in love and got married. Had kids. Then Gale moved back to District Twelve. I don't know what happened exactly, but I was encouraging it."

"Do you think she still loves you, Peeta?" Caesar asks gently.

Peeta closes his eyes for a moment and smiles a little. I wonder what he's thinking about? Then he looks at Caesar with pained eyes. "I'd like to believe she does. She tells me she loves me. It seems real enough, I guess. But I can't rely on empty words and apologies."

" _Empty words and apologies,_ " repeats Caesar in a whisper.

Peeta finds my face in the bleachers behind him. "I can't rely on what I'm being given."

I know he's talking about what happened a few nights ago. And I know that this is the closest he will come to letting me know his true feelings about our marriage.

Caesar is sympathetic. "It seems to me that the odds have never been in your favor. Tell me, Peeta, what are your thoughts about this baby?"

Peeta looks back at him. "I didn't know about the baby. I guess the signs were all there. I just didn't put them together. Or maybe I just didn't want to. I don't know. But I'm happy for her. Maybe now she won't feel tied to me."

"But she has two children with you, Peeta. Won't she still want to keep up your marriage for them?"

"I wanted to protect them," Peeta begins. "Growing up, my parents fought constantly. My mother was the district tailor's daughter. She married my father, who was three years older than her, when she was only eighteen. They had my oldest brother, Ather, seven years later. Then two years after, they had my other brother, Willard. And two years after that, they had me.

"Ather told me that they didn't always fight. That before I was born, they got along fine. But Willard and I couldn't remember a time when they didn't seem to hate each other. My father was never much of a talker, but he got even quieter with time. By the time I turned eleven, my parents would barely say a word to each other.

"I wanted more for my kids than that. I didn't want to worry them by fighting with Katniss. But while I was watching her interview, I realized that distancing ourselves from each other while the kids are young is better than ending the marriage when they're older. Then they'll hate us more because we will have lied to them."

Caesar looks impressed by Peeta's reasoning. "I agree completely, Peeta. I agree completely. So are you saying that you're going to end your marriage?"

"I think it would be best," he says.

Caesar nods sadly and stands. Peeta gets to his feet, too. They shake hands, he tells the audience to clap for Peeta, and he exits the stage.

"Now, we're going to allow our victors to go backstage and relax while I decide who gets to come back in two days!" Caesar explains, holding up two fingers. "Everyone, please enjoy live music while we take a break."

Caesar exits the stage, as do all the other victors. Haymitch, who seems to be the only person still on my side, leads me backstage to District 12's green room. As we go, people stop to give me disapproving looks and stares.

"Why are they all staring at me?" I ask under my breath.

"Because you gave them a reason to," Haymitch replies.

Once we're safely in the green room, I collapse into an armchair. Haymitch locks the door and sits on a love seat across from my chair. "Well, you told the truth, I'll give you that," he says.

"Isn't that what I was supposed to do?"

"I left it up to you, remember?" He clears his throat. "It was the right thing to do. He's upset now, but he'll appreciate your honesty later."

"Peeta or Gake?" I ask.

"Both of them," Haymitch replies.

There's a knock on the door. Haymitch stands and opens it just enough so he can stick his head out. I hear Effie's voice from outside the door, but I can't make out what she's saying.

"Okay. So he's with you?" Haymitch asks. There's more muffled words from Effie. Then Haymitch locks the door and sits down again. "She took Peeta to another room. He said he needed some time to think. Be glad you got stuck with me, kid," he says.

We sit silently for a while. All I'm thinking about is how grateful I am for Haymitch, who has stuck with me through everything, good and bad, for fifteen years.

"Thank you," I say suddenly.

He looks up, confused. "For what?"

"For still being my mentor," I say. "For being on my side."

"Don't put all your eggs in my basket yet. Who knows what could happen between now and Saturday?"

He's right. Today is only Tuesday, which means we have three days left in this reunion before we get to go home. A lot can happen in three days, and with the way things went tonight, nothing good will come of the rest of this week.

There's a crackling noise from the speaker mounted on the wall. Then a female voice says, "All victors are asked to return to the stage at this time."

Haymitch glances down at his wristwatch. "It's time," he says. "You'd better hope we didn't make the cut."

We walk out on stage and are asked to find a seat in the bleachers. As with everything involving the Games and the Capitol, we have to sit with our district. So I'm wedged between Haymitch and Peeta, whose eyes are puffy and whose nose is red. Has he been crying?

Caesar crosses the stage. The audience shouts his name and cheers. He turns to the cameras, where his face will be broadcast to viewers in their homes. "Welcome back to the Caesar Show, everyone! My votes are in and I'm ready to announce the victors who will be returning to the show on Thursday night!"

He removes a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. He unfolds it slowly to leave the audience in suspense. Then he clears his throat. "From District One, I would like to see Silver and Silvia Jostein, Grey Fretta, and Gauis Flamsteed."

Loud applause for them as they stand and walk to the front of the stage. Unbeknownst to me, we are supposed to come up behind Caesar and line up side by side when our names are called.

"From District Two, I'd like to see Enobaria and Quake. From District Three, Beetee Latier, please come back to us! From District Four, Annie and Saller, please join us! From District Five, the smartest of them all, the brain of the Capitol, Anun Khan! And, of course, Thorburn Chlodiwech. None from District Six, unfortunately. From District Seven, I'd like Johanna Mason to come back. Indigo Weaver from District Eight. District Nine will bring us Basa Green and Daniel Bernhardt. From District Ten, I'd love to see Grier Rollo and Alto Combe. In District Eleven, there lives a good man named Parry Ogilby. And he's coming back! And last but not least, I'd like my friends from District Twelve to come see me! Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss Mellark, and Peeta Mellark."

Everyone claps after each district's victors are chosen. Unlike the last time I took the stage with other Hunger Games victors, no one holds hands in unity. We despise each other. Or maybe they just despise me. Either way, we remain independent.

"I want to wish everyone a good night!" says Caesar. "And Happy Hunger Games!"

The show begins playing it's ending credits while the cameras capture shots of Caesar shaking our hands, hugging us, laughing with us, and showing us the way out.

Somewhere in the mix of forty-seven victors, I lose Haymitch. So I find my way backstage by myself, my eyes affected by the drastic change in lighting. The stage is like day, but backstage, it's like night. Once my vision has settled and I've figured out where I am, I hear him. He must be outside the back door to the studio, because his voice sounds muffled. That door is suddenly shoved open and Gale enters, ignoring the guards who insist he needs a pass to enter. His arms open when he sees me and I jump in them. He buries his face in my hair. I can feel him smiling. I am, too. We don't say anything. We just hold each other, basking in our happiness. Eventually, he sets me back on the ground. His hands slide down to rest at my waist and my arms lock around his neck.

"We need to talk," I begin. "I was wrong before. You-"

"Shh," he interrupts me and laughs. "You're always so serious. Give me some happy time."

"Take all the time you need, but we still need to talk," I say before I kiss him. When I pull away, my smile comes back. "I love you."

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. "Say that again."

"I love you."

He is smiling from ear to ear now. "I've been waiting so long to hear that."

"You act like you've never heard it," I say.

"This is the first time I've felt like you meant it."

Over Gale's shoulder, I notice Peeta standing in the corner with a group of other victors. But he's the only one of the group who's watching me. Our eyes meet for half of a second, and then his shoot away. I don't step away from Gale, and Peeta doesn't make an effort to hide his hurt. For the first time in my life, I think I finally know where I stand with him.

"What is it?" Gale asks when he sees my lack of focus.

"What?" I say. He gives me a quizzical look. "Oh. Nothing."

I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he doesn't press the issue.

Effie comes bustling towards us. "Katniss, I'm so happy for you!" she exclaims. She throws her arms around me and then holds me at arms length. "But no time for chatter. We have to get you to Caesar's party!"

Effie corrals the two of us outside and into the backseat of a long, black car. "We have to wait for Peeta and Haymitch. They should be - Oh, goodness!"

"What?" I say, surprised by Effie's sudden outburst.

"Your pretty face is _wasted_ on those clothes!" she says. She's looking Gale up and down. "This is a very prestigious after-party that we're attending!"

Gale looks stunned that she would insult his apparel. Honestly, it's not as bad as she's making it out to be. He's wearing a pink button down shirt and tan pants. It's not casual and it's not formal. I think it's what Effie would call dress-casual.

"It's not that bad, Effie," I say. "And besides, this isn't supposed to be formal."

"Yes, but wouldn't you rather outdo everyone else?" she asks.

Gale and I exchange glances. _Is she serious?_

"No," he says. Effie grimaces and I try to hold back a laugh.

Peeta and Haymitch open the door to the car now and slide in next to Effie, on the seat facing Gale and I. The atmosphere of the car instantly becomes tense when they get in. Effie gives the driver the 'okay' to drive off.

We're silent for a few minutes, just looking out the windows and watching the world go by, when Haymitch says, "What an eventful night."

Effie glares at him. "Haymitch, that was inappropriate."

"I can drink now. I don't care," he says. He pulls a flask from his pants pocket and takes a gulp from it.

Effie rolls her eyes. Gale crosses his arms and sits up straighter, making his shoulders appear wider. Peeta continues gazing out the window. This leaves me with nothing to do, so I just try not to appear too absorbed with myself.

When we arrive at Caesar Flickerman's massive mansion, Effie orders the driver to wait before letting us out. Then she tells him to raise the glass barrier between the front and back seat. Once it's up and he can't hear us talking, Effie says, "You all need to be on your best behavior this evening. Katniss, that includes your friend. The three of you," she points to Gale, Peeta, and I, "had best get along." She taps the glass divider separating us from the driver of the car. It slides down and reveals the open space again. "We're ready," she tells him.

The driver steps out of the car and opens the door on the side facing Caesar's front door. Peeta slides out first, then Haymitch, then Effie, then me, and finally Gale. We begin walking along the downward-sloping sidewalk and descending the steps that lead into the earth, where Caesar's house is. It's such a strange landscaping method. His entire ground floor must be underground. What makes the house stand out to me is that only the front sliver of earth leading to the front door has been dug into. The rest of the yard is its natural height and shows off the two aboveground stories of the house.

A man dressed in a black suit and red tie opens the front door for us. "Welcome to the Flickerman home," he says. We nod at him and move on.

Gale instinctively reaches for my hand when he sees the vast number of people in the house. Probably all forty-seven of the victors are here, plus some of the prep teams, district escorts, and the families and friends of the victors. As we walk, he leans in and says in my ear, "This is a madhouse."

I laugh. "No, this is the Capitol."

We keep walking. I notice that we've lost a few members of our group. Effie must've run off to talk to someone she knew. Haymitch caught sight of Opal and went to join him. We probably won't see him for the rest of the night, and when we do, he'll be so drunk that he won't see _us_. That leaves me and Gale, with Peeta trailing behind us miserably. I turn to look at him but he doesn't notice me. I touch Gale's arm and motion for him to look, too. Peeta is searching the room for anything to do or anyone to talk to, just following us and walking aimlessly.

"Hey, lover boy," Gale says. Peeta looks up attentively. "Why don't you walk with us?"

"I am," Peeta replies.

"I meant, look alive. Come on. We're going to find food."

Peeta jogs until he's closed the shirt distance between us. Then he walks beside me. All together, we look intimidating. Untouchable. Ravishing. Many heads turn our way and stare as we move toward the buffet tables.

"Would you look at that?" I exclaim when I catch sight of the cinnamon ham on one of the tables. I am about to run over to it, but Gale places a hand on my shoulder. Coming from such a strong person, this small touch is forceful enough to almost send me falling backwards. I stumble a little.

"Whoa there, Catnip," Gale says. His hands go to my back and stomach to steady me. His eyes meet mine and he chuckles. "Stay steady, okay?"

I giggle from the adrenaline rush of my near-fall and the close proximity of our faces. "Okay."

His hands don't move from me, but his eyes do. They slowly trail down to where he's holding me. His breath catches when he sees. "Can you believe it?"

"What?" I ask.

"That's where our baby is," he says, patting where one of his hands lays.

A slow smile spreads across my face. "I know. It's weird."

He takes his hands and repositions them, wrapping his arms around my waist. "Why?" he asks.

"Because. Who would've thought we'd end up like this?"

He laughs. "Not me, for sure. Fifteen years ago, I wouldn't be caught dead here."

"You barely convinced yourself to come now," I point out.

"I know."

"Can we eat now?" I ask impatiently.

With his consent, I go back over to the buffet table. Slowly this time, though. I pick up a plate and begin loading it down with two slices of brown sugar cinnamon ham, a small bird covered in reddish-orange sauce, and a few things from the dessert table.

"That's what you're going to eat?" someone behind me asks. It's Peeta.

"Yeah. Why?" I say.

"You should get something healthier. For the baby."

Gale steps in front of me and blocks my view. "Who are you to tell her how to eat? I'm sure she's excited to see meat after living off of bread for so long."

"Gale, stop," I say, pulling down on his shoulder. But since he's at least a foot taller than me - I'm only five feet and three inches tall - and there's people on either side of him; I can't see past him.

"Nice insult," Peeta says.

"Thanks. I've got plenty more."

"Good. So do I. And she doesn't live off of bread. But even if she did, it'd be better than starving to death with you," Peeta says.

I can't stand it any longer. I push past the people on my right until I'm standing between Peeta and Gale. Gale is furious now. His fists are clenched at his sides and his eyes are threatening. _If looks could kill . . ._

"Gale, calm down," I say, wrapping my fingers around his wrist.

He pulls away from me. "If he can say that about my family then what the hell has he been saying about yours?"

"He doesn't talk that way about me."

"But you'll let him talk that way about me?" Gale asks. He scoffs and looks away. "Nice, Katniss. Good thing I'm man enough to handle it."

"Gale, you don't need to handle it!" I shout. That's when I see it. The knuckles flying forward to make contact with Peeta's face. I reach for Gale's fist and catch it with my hand before it can hit Peeta. Then I spin around to look at Peeta. "What the hell is your problem?"

"All I did was try to help, and here comes your boyfriend, thinking he's better than your husband!" Peeta yells.

"I am," Gale fires back. "She left you for a reason."

Peeta's anger is growing. Everything is happening too quickly now. The two of them continue shooting insults back and forth. _"She's pregnant with my baby!" "She already had two of mine!" "I was there for her before you even had the balls to talk to her." "At least I'm not married to her sister!"_

This last lash from Peeta leaves Gale shaking with anger. He laughs darkly. Anyone can see it's only an attempt to compose himself. "Don't talk about Prim."

"How sick is it that you would marry her and then come back here and get with her older sister?"

Then Gale says the words that send _me_ over the edge. "At least I didn't lie to my wife about the death of her sister."

"What?" I say breathlessly. I feel as if the air has been knocked from my lungs.

"Katniss-" Peeta begins, his eyes wide with fear.

"You knew she was alive," I whisper.

This piece of information changes everything I've known for the past thirteen years. If Peeta knew, could that mean that Gale was right, that Prim _did_ try to contact me? If she did, could Peeta have thrown away a letter from her telling me her current whereabouts? Or asking me to help her?

With unclouded vision, I am now seeing Peeta Mellark's true colors.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow, what a plot twist! Just a few chapters ago, Peeta was dropping hints about Prim being alive, then he pretended he had no idea, and now we find out that he knew all along and was keeping it from Katniss! What did you think about Peeta FINALLY lashing out? Tell me what you thought in your reviews! And aside from Prim, also tell me what you thought about the interviews, Caesar's party, Gale's excitement at the baby announcement, and anything else that stood out to you.**

 **Thank you so much for the support and patience you guys give me! I love you!**


	28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

Before anything else could happen in the fight, someone separated Peeta from us. They haven't let me go back to the party since, so until now, I have no idea what was going on outside the doors of this isolated room in Caesar's house. This is probably best, anyway. Gale seems to be collected, but I'm not. My hands are shaky and my foot is tapping a nervous, fast rhythm on the floor. I suppose I'm still on edge.

As I sit on Gale's lap holding ice to his jaw, Haymitch catches me up on Peeta's current predicament. "Quake was the one who pulled Peeta away," he explains. "He's a much better guy than he comes off as, I can assure you. I hated him, too. But he talked some sense into Peeta and went back to the Training Center with him."

"Peeta left the party?" I ask.

"Yeah. He's leaving the Capitol, too."

"Why?" I exclaim.

"He tried to harm his pregnant wife. Whether it's his baby or not, that's a criminal charge here."

"But no one's pressing charges!" I exclaim. Haymitch doesn't respond. "So why does he have to go home?"

"Because I sent him there. The kids are still at your mom's house. He's going to stick around by himself for a few days. Get some alone time. He needs it."

I adjust the ice pack on Gale's jaw. He winces and sucks in a sharp breath. "Damn, Katniss," he growls.

"Sorry," I murmur. I brush my hand gently against the cheek that wasn't used as a punching bag. He closes his eyes and leans his face into my hand.

"Get a room," Haymitch groans, rolling his eyes and looking away.

"Actually, this is our room," Gale says.

"Then I'm leaving." Haymitch gets up and shuts the door behind him.

With him gone and the two of us alone, neither of us have any reservations when he takes me by the waist and kisses me until I fall back on the couch cushion with him hovering over me. I break away and hold up his ice pack. "You're supposed to hold this for another ten minutes," I say.

He takes it from my hand and tosses it across the room. "Screw the ice pack," he mutters before kissing me again.

My hands run through his hair and down his shoulders while his hold my waist. The kiss doesn't feel the same as our other kisses as of late - rough and impatient. This one feels indescribable. Some strange mixture of stress and exhaustion. But there's still the need for more, as there is every time I'm with him. After a few minutes, he removes his lips from mine and moves them down my jaw. I'm a little too absorbed in him, making it hard for me to remember that we're still in Caesar's house. I put my hands on his chest and push him a few inches away.

"Katniss . . ." he says in annoyance.

Without moving, I glance at the door. I can hear voices and music from the other side of it. Something tells me they aren't coming to check on us any time soon. But what if they do?

"God, Katniss. Don't do that."

"What?" I ask.

"The lip thing. Don't do it."

I realize I was gnawing on my lower lip, something I guess he's annoyed by.

After one last glance at the door, I raise my shoulders a few inches above the couch cushion so I can reach Gale again. He kisses back harder, the strength of the contact pushing me back down. One of his hands stays at my waist, while the other one travels downward my hip. There's a burning sensation in my gut that wants to keep going. It's a hunger that's unsatisfied. But this is getting out of hand.

I break away and grab his hand, locking his eyes in place with a warning. "We should stop."

After giving me a long look that's torn between ignoring my suggestion and taking it, he agrees. "Right."

We both sit up and try to look unpresentable again. Gale runs a finger through a tangled strand of my hair. "Back to the party?" I suggest.

He offers his hand and pulls me to my feet. "If you want."

So we walk out of the room we were given to recover from the fight, and insert ourselves back into the social gathering. Despite the ice he applied, Gale's jaw is already bruising badly and will only continue to get worse. So I'm not surprised when several strangers stop to ask Gale if he's okay.

I recognize Johanna's voice across the room saying, "There's the damsel in distress!"

I turn in the direction of her voice and smile. I start walking to her and she meets me halfway, carrying a glass of champagne. We embrace awkwardly, trying to avoid spilling her drink. While I have her attention, I whisper in her ear, "You have some explaining to do."

"Is Peeta gone?" she asks. I nod. She pulls away from me. "I'll come up to your room tonight."

"Okay," I say.

I let her lead me away to the group she's been hanging out with. One of the first people my eyes settle on is Quake. He puts a strong arm across my shoulders and smiles, like we're old friends or something. "Hey, Katniss. How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright." Then I remember that he's the one who helped break up the fight between Gale and Peeta. "Thank you, by the way."

Quake immediately understands what I'm referring to. "Maybe you won't hate me so much now," he says.

"I don't hate you," I disagree.

He laughs. "You're a really bad liar. But I'll pretend I didn't catch it." He removes his arm from my shoulder and stands in front of me. "Oh, I forgot! Congratulations. On the baby."

"Thanks."

"Any names picked out for the golden child?" he asks. He pairs his playful smile with a poke of my shoulder.

"It's a little early for that."

"Well, I want to be the first to know when you pick." He catches sight of someone across the room and waves. "Rendwick! My man!" he shouts, sounding like a rowdy grade school athlete. Then he turns back to me. "I have to go. Good talk."

Only a few seconds pass before I'm approached by Annie. "You didn't tell me the news!" she exclaims.

"I just found out yesterday," I say. "I would've told you sooner but Haymitch told me not to."

"I'm so excited for you!" she says. "But I'm sorry about the situation. Choosing between two people must be hard. I never really loved anyone until I got reaped and met Finnick. He was my mentor, you know. I knew I had to get home to be him. Later, he told me about Snow blackmailing him and selling his body, but I never cared as long as I was the one he really loved."

I'm reminded of Peeta. Was that what he had in mind all those times when he let me see Gale? Did he think that as long as I still came home to him every night, it would be okay? I'm glad it worked out for Annie, because it didn't for Peeta.

"I wish it was that easy," I say.

"It will be now, though," she says encouragingly. "Now that Peeta's ending it, and you and Gale are going to be parents."

"A lot can happen in eight months, Annie."

She rubs my shoulder soothingly. "Don't think negatively and it'll come out positively."

Leave it to Annie to make something bad sound good. I admire her positivity, though.

I spot Saller Livingsea coming towards us from across the room. I think Gale must have gone in that direction when we came back to the party, but I can't see him now. "Annie," Saller says when she gets to us. They embrace, then start laughing at something Annie says that I don't understand. It must be an inside joke.

Annie sees me still standing next to her and smiles. "Katniss, this is Saller from my district. She mentored Finnick in your Quell and the tributes from your Games."

"Oh," I say with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

She holds out her hand to me. I give her my hand and she shakes it once. "I've wanted to introduce myself all week but I haven't had a good opportunity. I watched both of your Games and from a mentor's standpoint, you're amazing."

"Your Games were good, too," I say. "You won the year before me, right?"

"Yes. I didn't have much competition in my year."

I raise my eyebrows. "You were only thirteen, though."

"Fourteen," she corrects me. "I turned fourteen while I was in the arena. Great birthday, right?"

She laughs and I try to laugh, too. But the reality of it stands clear in my mind. I can only imagine how terrible she must feel every year on the day that's meant to be celebrated. I'm sure she doesn't celebrate, though. _Let's celebrate your birthday, because isn't it wonderful how you've lived through another year of nightmares and flashbacks and trauma, and on top of it all, fame?_

I notice the silence between us that is becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and rush to stop it. I say the first thing on my mind and comment at random. "So, you're probably the youngest person here."

"I think so," she replies. "You're closer to me in age than most people here."

"I'm going to find Muscida and make sure she's doing okay," Annie dismisses herself suddenly. I had almost forgotten she was still standing with us. We tell her goodbye and once she's gone, we continue our conversation.

Saller smiles. "Congratulations on the baby. You and your boyfriend are both so good-looking. Your kids'll be precious."

I wince at the word _boyfriend_ , but smile anyway at the images that cross my mind now of my unborn child. "Do you have kids?"

"Not yet. But I want a few. I just haven't met anybody yet."

My mind immediately goes to Peeta. He really liked Saller when he met her on the first night of the reunion. I've seen them talking numerous times since then. Clearly, they get along well. If I weren't in the way, Saller and Peeta would make great friends, if nothing else. Now that he's definitely ending our marriage, would I be above setting her up with him? _No_ , I answer myself quickly, because I'm not sure I can let him go so quickly.

It crosses my mind that perhaps I'm being selfish. After all, he let Gale and I have our way. Maybe I should drop some hints here and there about Saller. Let him figure out what the hints mean.

"That fight was crazy," Saller comments. "I didn't know Peeta could act that way."

"I didn't, either," I admit. "But Gale started the fight. It wasn't Peeta's fault. Gale can be hot-headed."

Saller smiles at me.

"What?" I ask.

"You stand up for him even when he tried to hurt you," she says.

"I wasn't trying to," I say, looking away uncomfortably.

"But you did. You didn't even have to think about it. You just backed him up."

"We've always been a team. We look out for each other. It's habit."

I notice that her smile never seems to fade. Her perfect straight teeth form a charming smile that goes well with her curly, blonde hair and bright green eyes. "Well, I think it's nice," she says.

I see Quake walk up behind Saller. He places his hand on her shoulder. She looks up at him and then puts her hand over his. Their faces almost touch as he leans over her shoulder. "Babe, what time is it?"

"I don't know," she says.

Quake notices me watching them. "Hey again, Katniss," he says with a grin.

"Hey, Quake. I think there's a clock downstairs."

"Thanks." He waves goodbye to me and gives Saller a kiss on the cheek. His hand brushes across her back as he walks away. I take a mental note of the way she watches him leave, her eyes following his departing figure longingly.

" _'I haven't found anybody?'_ " I say, quoting her words from earlier. I raise my eyebrows.

Saller chuckles and blushes. "It's weird between Quake and I. He was the last victor from District 1 and I was the last from my district. We mentored together for three years."

"Mentored together? History says not," says Johanna. She and Annie have re-joined us now. This time, Annie carries a glass of champagne, too. "Look who I convinced to have a drink!" she points to Annie and throws an arm around her shoulder.

We all laugh. Johanna is probably three inches taller than Annie. Since she's wearing a pair of black strappy heels to match her cherry-colored dress, she appears to be at least a head taller than her. Annie is just an inch shorter than me, though. So the sight of Johanna leaning so casually against her shorter friend is humorous.

"I've been trying to convince her all week!" Saller complains. "How'd you do it?"

Johanna motions Saller forward and whispers loudly enough for us all to hear, "I showed her how great I'm feeling after two and a half glasses."

Saller breaks into laughter and Johanna joins in, but she has to lean on Saller to keep balance. "Yeah, you look great," Saller jokes sarcastically.

"Thanks," Johanna says with an equally sarcastic tone. Then she kisses Saller's cheek.

I suddenly realize why all of this is so funny. I've never seen Johanna drunk before. "Johanna, I've never seen you drink."

She looks at me and grins. "I've never seen you drink, either. Go get a glass. We'll wait here."

"She can't," Annie interrupts.

"One glass won't hurt," Johanna insists, busting into a fit of buzzed laughter.

Annie shakes her head at me. I give her a small nod to let her know that we're on the same page.

Quake returns just then, cackling loudly with Rendwick Keene, a victor from District 1 who won several years before Quake. They have a popular friendship amongst the people in the Capitol. From my understanding, they travel between districts to see each other often, and even take the occasional trip to the Capitol together.

"Hey, girls!" Quake shouts, even though we're standing a few feet away from him. He swoops in to give Saller another kiss on the cheek, then snakes his arms around her waist and kisses her full on the mouth. She steps away from him with a flushed face of angry humiliation. She smiles up at him but it's clearly forced. I see her lips moving and try to make out the words, but this proves unsuccessful. With the loud music and chatter from all over the house, it's impossible to hear anything unless another person is speaking directly into your ear or shouting.

I turn away from them and see Johanna and Annie laughing with Rendwick. "Did I ever tell you about the time I-"

He notices me listening and pauses. To my surprise, he gives me a friendly white smile and shakes my hand. Hey, I'm Rendwick Keene. And you're Katniss Everdeen. It's really good to meet you."

"You, too," I reply, returning his polite gesture.

"Why don't you join in and listen?" He grins excitedly. "It's story time!"

Annie, Johanna, and I laugh at him. I notice that Quake and Saller are nowhere to be seen now, assume they went off somewhere by themselves, and switch my attention back to Rendwick.

"Have I ever told you ladies about the time Finnick Odair took me fishing?" he asks. We all shake our heads and chuckle. "Okay, this is a good one." We sit down on the couches and chairs placed in a circular formation nearby. Once we're seated, Rendwick rubs his hands together and begins his tale.

"It was a long time ago. Probably twenty years ago. Finnick was seventeen, I was nineteen. My father was in District Four on business and the district allowed me to go with him. They wrote it off as learning for my future job. Whatever. So we're in Four and my dad tells me to run off and find something fun to do. So I go to the square, and there sits Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fiftj Hunger Games, alone at an outdoor table for a café and weaving some kind of net.

"As a normal person would, I went up to him. I mean, the kid's famous and we're both victors. Why wouldn't I talk to him? He's not any better than I am. So I go up to him and say, 'What you got there?' He looks all surprised that somebody's talking to him, and then he realizes who I am and he's like, 'Oh, you're Rendwick Keene! District One, right?' and I said, 'Sure am.' He invited me to sit down with him and then we started talking about hobbies and how everyone treats us differently as victors and how boring it is to be one. Well, next thing I know, this kid's asking me to go fishing with him. I try to tell him I don't know how, but he's like, 'No, no, I'll teach you.' So I'm like, ''Kay, whatever.'

"So we go down to the docks and he has two fishing poles, and he says, 'It's easier than you think. You throw out the line and when you feel a pull, you reel it back in.' Well, it _wasn't_ easier. It was the damn hardest thing I've ever done. But I tried to do it with confidence because confidence is key. So I throw out my line and I'm like, 'Did I do it right?' and Finnick says, 'Yeah,' so I'm like, ''Kay.'

"So we're standing on this dock with our fishing lines out and we're talking about life and telling jokes, real relaxed. And then all of a sudden I feel this tug on my line, so I jump up and I'm like, 'Dude, I got one.' And Finnick just stays there really relaxed and he says, 'Reel it in.' So I'm trying to reel it in but the twirly thing's stuck or something, so I'm tugging it and tugging it, and this whole time the fish is pulling the line. And it was a big fish, too. Like, _heavy_. Finnick stands up and he says, 'What's the problem?' and I told him the line was stuck. So now he's trying to reel it in and he's like, 'What did you do to it?' and I got really defensive. I said, 'Dude, I told you I didn't know how to fish!'

"Then, out of nowhere the reel starts working. Finnick's like, 'I fixed it!' and acting all excited, right? He looks at me, all triumphant and proud of himself, and in those five seconds he's looking away from the water, the line snaps. And he could hear it. His eyes were the size of the moon and he dove forward to catch the line before it could go underwater, but he went a little too far forward."

"Did he catch the line?" I ask.

Rendwick grins. "Oh, he caught the line. But he also caught his shoulder. He had to reach backward to grab the line because, like I said, he went too far forward. Well, his body hit the water at a really weird angle and he ended up doing an accidental somersault and dislocating his shoulder."

The three of us have our mouths gaping open from this surprise twist. Rendwick chuckles. "But we saved the fish, at least."

"You're the reason he had a bad shoulder?" Annie asks between laughs.

"Sure am," he replies proudly. "He didn't ever tell you that story, did he?"

"No!" Annie giggles.

"That's because he was too embarrassed by it. He thought he was some kind of professional fisherman, but as it turned out, he didn't even know how to unstick a fishing line."

We're all laughing now. Even some nearby guests who started listening toward the end of the story are laughing. A few people are clapping.

Someone appears beside me and touches my arm. It's Gale. "Haymitch just passed out. Effie says we should leave, too."

"Okay," I say. "Just give me a second."

He waits for me to say goodbye to Annie and Rendwick. When I get to Johanna, she wraps her free arm around me shoulder in a three-total-armed embrace and whispers in my ear, "I'll be there in a little while."

"Good," I say.

I try to find Quake and Saller, but no one has seen them since they left our group. I figure that I'll see them tomorrow and leave without saying goodbye to them.

It's not long before we're back in the elevator of the Training Center, shooting up to the twelfth floor. Gale, having never ridden in an elevator like this one, is intrigued by the glass elevator and how small the people on the ground floor become as our height escalates. When we reach our floor, Gale volunteers to take Haymitch to his room. Instead of simply leading him, Gale lifts him over one shoulder and carries him there. Me and Effie are alone now but it's only temporary. I know I'd better ask my questions while I have time. So I say, "What's going to happen to Peeta?"

"Well, er, he's going back to your district. He'll have a few days to himself until you return, which will give him time to think through his troubles."

"I know that," I say, a little impatiently. "I mean after I get back."

"Oh," says Effie. "Well, I suppose if he made any decisions in your absence, you'll listen to them. And if you wish to live somewhere else or for him to move out, then you can let him know. Whose name is your house under?"

"Mine. I built the house before we were . . . um, seeing each other." My voice drags out questioningly at the end. What do you call a relationship like mine and Peeta's? We never exactly dated. It progressed from friendly to romantic, and then he asked me to marry him a few years later. And seeing as I had no other choice, I-

 _Seeing as I had no other choice._ Doesn't this thought alone answer every question and unsure feeling that I've had about our relationship?

"Then you'd get to keep your house and he would be the one to leave. If you were to get a divorce, there would be a custody dispute between yourself and Peeta. But seeing as the knowledge of your affair is so widely known, and Peeta is clearly the more capable parent . . ." she trails off unsurely.

"What?" I demand.

"Well, I was just saying that Peeta would be more likely to get custody."

I realize she's right, but the implication that I'm not a good parent rubs me the wrong way. My anger is increasing and I'm about to fire back with something hideous when Gale returns. He must feel the tension that's practically sizzling off of me, because he stops in his tracks. "What's going on?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say with a tight jaw. "Just getting some questions answered."

Effie nods, but her eyes are questioning. I'm sure in her mind, there were no implications made and no problems created. Of course, she wouldn't understand why I'm angry. "I'd best get to bed," she says and hurries away.

I wait until I hear her door close before I speak to Gale. "How long do you think before Johanna shows up?"

Gale rolls his eyes. "She was pretty drunk. I'd say an hour, if she doesn't completely forget to come at all."

We settle down on the couch to wait. I turn on the television and comply with Gale's request to watch the recap of tonight's interviews. Two newscasters I've never seen before - the bottom of the screen reveals their names are Mauser McKnight and Wes Templesmith, probably Claudius Templesmith's son - are doing tonight's recap. We've turned on the television at the exact moment they're starting on District 12.

"Let's start out discussing Haymitch Abernathy's interview," says Wes.

Mauser explains the interview to the viewers. "Caesar started off by asking him about his tributes surviving two Hunger Games. Then Caesar asked him about Katniss Mellark's affair."

Wes displays his confusion. "So many people have started calling her Katniss Everdeen again. I'm not sure whether it's because they don't consider her worthy of Peeta's last name because of her affair, or if everyone's just forgotten the change in her name. I've even wondered if Peeta and Katniss got a divorce secretly and she went back to her maiden name."

"But how would everyone else know? If it was done in secret?" asks Mauser. "And if it was made public, we would know by now."

Wes nods. "You're right. Moving along, Katniss Mellark's interview came next. Of course, Caesar covered the affair as a topic."

"Katniss admitted to cheating on her husband, Peeta Mellark, with Gale Hawthorne, who was previously believed to be her cousin," Mauser says.

"She also dropped a _huge_ baby bombshell!" Wes announces. "Boy, was that surprising! I never saw it coming."

"You know what I didn't see coming? The direction Peeta Mellark's interview took. Peeta opened up about some private things in his life, and I think everyone felt fortunate that he was comfortable enough to share."

"Mauser, I completely agree. Peeta opened up about the his children, his wife's affair, his childhood, and more. It was touching."

I hear the elevator doors opening behind us and click off the television. Gale and I stand, expecting to see just Johanna stand in the doorway. Instead, we find Johanna, Annie, Rendwick, Quake, and Saller.

"Why are they here?" Gale asks her.

Johanna gives us both an impish grin. "Meet the new and improved Squad 451."

* * *

 **A/N: There's your almost complete list of squad members! I chose these characters because I really enjoyed writing them for the past few chapters and wanted to expand on them. Please let me know what you think of them, too! Also, tell me what you think about the possible Quake/Saller romance, Peeta being sent home, the Galeniss moment at the beginning of the chapter, and anything else you can think of! I'm truly thankful for the reviews I've been getting. I understand that not everyone is pleased right now, but I'm not going to change to a Peeta/Katniss story just because people are asking me to. I'm sorry if I misled you in any way about the pairing of this story.** **And lastly, I want to let you guys know that I read each and every one of your reviews. If you had a question in your review and I haven't answered it in a PM or in an author's note, then it's because the answer would spoil the story.**

 **Please remember to review! I love you :)**


	29. Chapter 29

"If it can be destroyed by the truth, it deserves to be destroyed by the truth."

\- Carl Sagan

PART III

CHAPTER 29

Previously in _Squad 451_. . .

 _Gale and I stand, expecting to see just Johanna stand in the doorway. Instead we find Johanna, Annie, Rendwick, Quake, and Saller._

 _"Why are they here?" Gale asks her._

 _Johanna gives us both an impish grin_ _. "Meet the new and improved Squad 451."_

* * *

"What are you talking about?" I say. I notice Gale's silence beside me and look to him for an explanation. He wears a small grin on his lips. "Gale?"

"We're back in business," he says. The smile stretched even wider across his face now.

"You bet we are," says Johanna. She motions to me. "Sit down, Katniss. We've got some explaining to do."

It seems like hours go by, but eventually, I get a good handle on what I'm dealing with.

Johanna brought Quake, Saller, and Annie so they can tell their side of the story. Each of us has someone or something we love and care about that has been hidden from us for years. For me and Gale, Prim. For Annie and Rendwick, Finnick. For Johanna, her younger brother. For Saller, her mother. For Quake, his ex-girlfriend of six years.

I asked them all to explain their stories in full detail. Johanna went first, since I never knew she had a brother and was intrigued by it. She'd never told me about her family or friends from District 7 before. She gives a brief background of her brother. He looks uncannily similar to Johanna. His name is Jonathan. _Johanna and Jonathan Mason. Real original names_ , I think.

Jonathan went missing about twenty years ago, around the time Annie won her Games. Johanna's parents and older brother died years before that in a wildfire in the woods of District 7, so she was left to raise her younger brother by herself. At the time of his disappearance, he was only thirteen years old. Johanna was sixteen. After years of searching for him, she finally lost hope and accepted his probable death. But she recently found something that made her question this conclusion. She doesn't say what, though.

Annie and Rendwick both want Finnick back badly. Of course, they didn't need to go into details about the situation; we already knew everything.

Saller, as it turns out, is the granddaughter of Muscida Selkirk, the older victor from District 4. Muscida's son - Saller's father - and his wife were said to have died in a boating accident around the time Peeta and I were preparing for the Quarter Quell. Their bodies were never found. Several months ago, Saller saw that a few of her father's personal belongings were missing from their place on his old desk. She asked her grandmother and cousin, who were the only other people who lived in her home, if they moved her father's things. They both denied ever touching them.

Quake was dating a girl from his district for six years. He broke up with her a little more than a year ago. Last month on the anniversary of their breakup, he found a note written in her handwriting on his porch. It said, _Don't underestimate them like you underestimated me_ , and was signed with her name, Melia. He stopped by her house later that day to ask her what the note meant. When he got there, she was nowhere to be found.

Quake doesn't go into any more detail than he has to, and I guess all of us know better than to press the issue any further.

After everyone has told their story, Johanna says, "We're meeting tomorrow morning at seven o'clock." She looks around the room questioningly. "Where's Peeta?"

"I told you, Haymitch sent him home," I say. One look at her tells me that she has no memory of the exchange.

"No, I don't, because I would've told you not to let him go!" she exclaims.

"Why would you want him to stay?" I ask, confused.

"Because, brainless! He's as much of a part of this as you and I. He's missing people he loves, too, you know." Johanna turns to Haymitch. "I don't know where the hell you sent him, but you better hope for your sake that he hasn't left yet."

"His train doesn't leave for another hour," Haymitch replies.

"Good. Call him, and if you can't reach him than call whoever's nearby with a phone on hand. _Get him back._ We need him at tomorrow's meeting." Without another word, Johanna steps into the elevator. Her small entourage follows quickly behind her. The doors close and they're gone, heading back to their own floors for the night.

I stare blankly at the gray, metallic elevator door, perplexed. What did Johanna mean when she said that Peeta was as much a part of this as her and I? Which of Peeta's loved ones is missing? Peeta's family died when the Capitol bombed our district. Delly Cartwright, Peeta's close childhood friend, is alive and well in District 12. She's married to one of the few merchants' children from 12 that evacuated 12 in time enough to evade the bombs. They have one set of triplets that are in Will's grade at school. We have supper with them occasionally. So she's out of the running. But if it's not Peeta's family or Delly, who else could it be? Who else does Peeta love?

The answer is completely lost on me. Just as I'm giving up, Gale says, "So, he's coming back?"

I find Haymitch at the same time as he finds me. We share a silent exchange in which both of us communicate our desire to allow Peeta to be a part of this, and wanting him to have some time to himself. He deserves to have both, really. But it can't work out that way.

In our silence, Gale sighs. "I don't want to be awake when he gets here. Won't be much longer, you know. Effie just called someone to get him back. He's probably on his here right now."

"Um, yeah," I say. "I guess we should get to bed."

But I don't sleep right away. I lie awake in bed until I hear the _ding!_ of the elevator, which is followed by the sound of the heavy metal doors sliding open, sliding shut, and Peeta's footsteps. "Haymitch? Is that you?" I hear him say, although his voice sounds muffled through the door that separates us.

"Yeah, it's me," Haymitch replies.

There's a long silence before they speak again. Finally, Peeta says, "Look, Haymitch, I need to apologize for the way I acted tonight."

"I'm not the one you need to apologize too," he says.

"Is she still awake?" Peeta asks.

"I'd say not. Went off to bed an hour ago," Haymitch replies.

"She didn't want to wait up for me?"

"After the spectacle you and that boyfriend of hers made tonight, can you blame her?" Haymitch pauses unsurely before quietly saying, "But then, she's sharing her room with him . . ."

"Oh," Peeta says quietly. "I, uh, better get to my own room then."

I hear approaching footsteps, and then a door closing down the hall. A few minutes later, Haymitch's door closes, too. Only now do I allow myself to fall into an exhausted slumber.

* * *

"Do all of you know why you're here?" Johanna asks. "If you don't have a clue, raise your hand."

Johanna stands before a small gathering of people - Haymitch, Peeta, Gale, Beetee, Chipper, Annie, Cress, Saller, Quake, and Rendwick. We're seated at long, wooden-surfaced tables that surround the room in a perfect block-U, with Johanna at the head of the formation. The group seems much larger in this overcrowded, tiny blue meeting room. Behind Johanna is a white board that stretches a few feet across the wall. She holds a fat black marker, with which she has scrawled _Game Plan_ across the top of the board.

Almost everyone in the room knows what's been going on, but I don't think many of us know the purpose of this morning's meeting. I know this because a large portion of the gathering, including myself, raise our hands. Johanna nods at the uninformed bunch. "Listen up, then, because it's a long story." She looks up to address the whole of us. "This is the whole truth. It's not cut short, it hasn't been altered to fit a need-to-know basis. Each of you were told varying versions of the story, but I'm about to set it straight."

A few moments pass to let us all process the fact that not a single one of us knows the entire truth.

"We all remember the war. Some of us even fought in it, either on the inside or out. We were all rebels, correct?" Everyone nods, which Johanna returns with a thumbs-up. "Right. But very few people know what really took place during it, and what happened after."

Peeta, Haymitch, and I look at each other, perplexed. Weren't we on the front lines of the war? Weren't we at the head of the rebel cause? Weren't we the ones who lost so much and gained so little, but overcame it with the victory that led to the districts' freedom? Wouldn't we know if something was going on beyond what everyone else saw?

I glance over at Gale, who's sitting in the chair to my right. He doesn't look back at me, but he must feel my eyes on him because he reaches for my hand and squeezes it once. But I didn't turn to him because I needed comfort. He knows the real reason that I'm looking to him now - to find proof that he knows more than he's told me. And as I observe the eyes that won't make contact with mine and the body that's a little too tense in all the wrong places, I see I am correct. His attempt to appear as clueless as the rest of us is failing. He doesn't put up a good act.

Johanna interrupts my observation. I snap my head back in her direction. "I'll start with what you do know and work up to what you don't. Katniss and I had three weeks leading up to rhe war to train to become soldiers. I was rejected after I panicked in my final exam. I didn't make a squad. But Katniss did. She was accepted to Squad Four-Five-One, along with Gale, Finnick, and a few others. They were later joined by Peeta. Anyway, their squad was also known as the 'Star Squad' because much of the combat they were involved in was televised for propos - they weren't on the frontlines, they were basically commercial soldiers. I'm sure you saw their propos every tome you turned on your TV."

The others nod their heads in agreement. Yes, they saw the propos, and yes, they were annoyed by their constant airing.

"The problem with being on the Star Squad was not getting the full soldier experience. The advantage to being on the Star Squad was knowing classified war information. That is, unless you're Katniss." Johanna smirks at me while everyone chuckles lightly. "Plutarch Heavensbee, being the manipulative bastard he was, made sure that only two people knew the _really_ classified information. You know, the stuff that was dangerous even for the Star Squad to know." She looks around the room. "It's confusing, I know. But don't give me those faces. It'll all make sense soon."

Haymitch makes a circular motion with his wrist. Johanna, can we . . ."

She rolls her eyes. "We have until twelve o'clock. Calm down. Anyway, Haymitch and I were those two trusted people. Plutarch told us to keep quiet and tell no one until the war was over. And we were given specific instruction not to tell Katniss until she was ready to hear it. Unfortunately for her, it took her thirteen years to be ready."

I shoot a glare in her direction, which she grins at sarcastically.

"While all of you settled back in your districts and got cozy, Haymitch and I were traveling back and forth to District Thirteen for two weeks, trying to figure out what these secrets meant. Plutarch was a real stubborn son of a bitch, I'll give him that. We begged him to tell us more, or to at least let us tell Katniss what we knew, but the old man stupidly assumed he'd live long enough to tell her himself. Well, surprise! He died four months ago, and you can bet he took his secrets with him." Johanna zones in on her audience now. "Is everyone tracking with me?"

Probably, she's waiting for someone to give her a thumbs-up or for us all to nod our heads, but we all just stare at her uncomprehendingly. Nothing she's saying makes any sense. Except maybe to Gale and Haymitch, who seem to be having a real blast with their arms crossed and smug-but-serious looks on their faces. I tighten my hands into fists in my lap to contain the frustration that might send one of my fists flying to their faces. How dare they keep secrets from me? Not just them, but all of these people. They've known Plutarch's secrets for over a decade.

Johanna rolls her eyes dramatically at the lack of response from her audience. "Does no one have any sense around here? Keep your brains running, people, because we've got a lot more to go! Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. Plutatch died. He'll be missed. Sorry we didn't tell you sooner. Blah, blah, moving on.

"Since Plutarch was the only person that we knew about with access to this super-secret information, Haymitch and I were left alone to figure it out. But this man must've been the most secretive guy on the planet because he didn't leave so much as a sticky note to guide us. About this time, Gale called and told me his wife had gone missing. For your information, his wife was Katniss's sister, Prim." A few people throw sickened looks in Gale's direction. "Yeah, I'm grossed out, too. Anyway, for the past thirteen years, we've been keeping her in hiding because believe it or not, there are still some shady people in the Capitol. If they found out that Prim was still alive after thet sent Beetee's bomb specifically to kill her, they would've gone ballistic."

It takes a moment for Johanna's words to set. ". . . _After they sent Beetee's bomb specifically to kill her . . ._ "

My knees bend and my hands press dig into the wooden arms of the chair I am sitting in, preparing to launch me across the room at Johanna. As if anticipating my plans, Gale's arms snap out to stop me. His hands wrap themselves around the tops of my arms like a vice, and his eyes are wide and frenetic. "Katniss, stop. Just hold on and let her-"

"Hold on?!" I cry in disbelief. "How can I hold on? First I'm told Prim's dead, then I read her letter that said she knew she was going to die, and then I find out that she was married to you. And now you're telling me the Capitol _meant_ to kill her?!"

"Wait, go back," Gale says quickly. "There was a letter saying she _knew_ she was going to die?"

"Yeah, your mother gave it to me. Prim told her not to give it to me until I was ready," I say impatiently. "What does that have to do with -"

"But, Katniss, she isn't dead," Gale says slowly, as if he was speaking to a child.

"I know that, but she thought she was going to be."

Haymitch coughs. "Are you two finished?"

I avert my attention back to Johanna. "The Capitol wanted Prim dead, Katniss. I thought that was obvious," she says.

My temper is beyond my control now. "No, it wasn't obvious!" I shout back. "It was Beetee's bombs that killed her! You said it yourself! So the Capitol had nothing to do with it!"

Haymitch intervenes again. His voice is calm, though a little annoyed, which proceeds in making me even more furious. "The hovercraft holding the bombs was intercepted. It wasn't an on-the-whim interception, either. The Capitol planned it. But none of us knew the plan until it was to late. Except apparently Prim. That she knew she might die and went to the Capitol as a nurse anyway is news to all of us. Everyone is just as confused as you are. Just . . ." He trails off, probably deciding which approach to take with me. "Just try and keep your head."

Johanna sighs loudly before continuing her story. "Prim was hiding out in District Two after the war. It didn't take long for Gale to decide it wasn't safe for her to be living alone, so he invited her to stay with him in his apartment. After a few months, she wanted out. She said she had intruded on Gale's life for long enough. Gale knew how dangerous it would be to let her go, and he did the only thing he could think of to make her stay. Without going into the mushy gushy details, I'll put it this way: he made a romantic advance and she stayed."

My heart throbs twice with a painful intensity. So Gale really didn't intend anything romantic when he invited Prim to live with him. He was just sticking to the promise we made each other years and years and years ago. To always protect the other's family, no matter the cost. I hated him. I told him I didn't want to see him again. But still, he kept his promise. He was keeping Prim alive when I couldn't.

I allow myself to look at Gale again. I see his saddened eyes, framed by eyebrows that are pressed together, creating deep lines of worry between them. I notice the way he purses his lips and locks his jaw in an attempt to hold back the sob that would escape if he relaxed it. He's looking down at the smooth, shiny wood of the table, unaware that I'm watching him.

"You were protecting her," I say quietly.

This stirs something in him, and his eyes flicker up to meet mine. In the voice of a man who is relieved at finally being heard after shouting for a thousand years, he says, "It's what I told you, right?" He gives me a weak smile. I reach over and grab his hand again.

Johanna goes on to explain how Gale and Prim got married. It wasn't official - marriage documents couldn't exist between a living person and a presumably dead person. - but Gale had to have some way to keep her with him, and marriage was the only way. Only a few people were present at the wedding. A handful of Gale's most trusted coworkers and friends, Haymitch, Johanna, Annie, my mother, and Rory. Then, Prim got pregnant - an attempt to hide Gale's true intentions when he married her. Johanna and Haymitch advised against havinf the baby. At just twenty years old, it was a big risk for her to take, considering she couldn't see a doctor without it going on record - which had to be avoided due to her being in hiding. They considered asking my mother to come help, but the risk was too large. If the Capitol happened to still be keeping tabs on my family, they'd want an explanation to why my mother was in District 2. So that idea was ruled out. Eventually, Prim told them that she would have Lane and deal with whatever risks came with it.

I can't help but smile upon reaching that part in the story. Such a selfless, caring thing to do. I can only imagine how scared Prim was. But then, she was a strong girl who grew up too fast. No, she was a strong girl _because_ she grew up too fast. It's no surprise, really, that she managed to hold herself together for the sake of her baby.

It turns out that Gale's story about his wife dying from birth complications wasn't entirely untrue. It was close to being factual, anyway. Prim was on the verge of death for almost a month after Lane was born. No one knew what was wrong. Then all of a sudden she got better and life moved on.

Three years later, Johanna called Gale with bad news. If Lane was to start preschool, Prim had to find somewhere else to live. Somewhere without Gale. It was too suspicious for Gale to have a son without a mother to show her face in public. What if the government suspected something and searched his apartment, only to find Prim? It would be better if they found no one. Besides that and unbeknownst to Gale, Johanna had reason to believe that the Capitol was already on their tracks. That they didn't just suspect Prim was still alive. They _knew_.

Gale realized his disadvantage against Johanna's convincing argument and finally agreed to let her go. Prim was to move every few months to distract the Capitol group who wanted to kill her. However, she could write letters to Gale as often as she wanted. Somehow, they managed. Gale raised Lane by himself for four years. And then one day, he realized he hadn't gotten a letter from Prim in a while. He waited a while longer for a response, but one never came. So Gale called Johanna, who told him to find me - she thought that if anyone knew where Prim was, it would be me.

"Gale, do you want to tell it from here?" Johanna asks.

Gale nods once. I expect him to stand up to tell the story, maybe even take Johanna's place at the head of the room. But he only slides his hand out of mine, crosses his arms, and slouches into his chair. Very closed off, very unwelcoming. "The first thing I did in Twelve was find the bakery. Johanna told me Peeta reopened it. I hoped I'd find him, and if I was lucky, Katniss. I was walking in town when I saw her car accident. I saw her afterwards but neither of us could really get words out; it was the first time we were seeing each other in years. So we parted ways. It took me a day or two to realize I still didn't know where she lived. The first person I went to see in the morning was Mrs. Everdeen, to tell her Prim was missing and ask about Katniss."

Gale shuts his eyes tightly, remembering. His chest rises and expands as he takes a deep breath. "Imagine how I felt, showing up on my mother-in-law's doortstep. Maybe you'll see it better if you pretend it's _your_ mother-in-law. You're standing on her doorstep with your seven-year-old - her grandson - at your side. You ring the doorbell and you hear her muffled voice calling out to someone, and you wonder who it is since she lives alone. Then the door swings open and you have to lower your eyes to see the small person in the doorway. Imagine that this little girl looks exactly like the girl you used to be in love with . . . and add in the fact that finding her younger version here, in this house, is no coincidence. Then your mother-in-law walks up behind this girl and lets you in. You ask her who the little girl is, even though you already know the answer. And she tells you, 'This is Katniss's daughter, Maysilee,' and you just stand there trying to remember how to breathe. You know who this girl's father is - you know without a doubt - but you have to ask anyway because nothing seems real. But then you notice a picture frame inside the house - a family portrait. And you don't have to ask anymore. You're sure now that the girl you love, whose sister you're still protecting . . . she married the man she said she didn't love."

In the empty silence that encases the room now, there is a spreading feeling of sadness. None of us can ignore it. Not even Peeta, who certainly has no reason to feel sorry for Gale, can wish it away. Unavoidable, unreal, and yet tranquil. How can sharing someone's deepest sadness be peaceful? But it also threatens to drown us.

Sitting here in this quiet room, taking this scenario, and slowly feeding it to us piece by piece until the last excruciating bite. That is what Gale has done. He has made this room full of people hurt for him, possibly more than he hurts for himself. And here I thought it was Peeta who had a way with words.

Gale slides out of his chair and tries to leave. My hand lurches forward and grabs the first thing it touches to make him stop. Gale looks down at where my hand is clutching his hip, then slowly brings his gaze to meet mine. The contact is brief, only lasting a second before he breaks his eyes away and takes a step forward.

"Gale," I say to his back, my voice so soft that I can barely hear it. He stops walking, though. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't change the past, Katniss," he says, his voice strained. Then he leaves.

Haymitch is the only one with the courage to meet my stricken eyes. We share another short, wordless exchange before he gets up to find Gale. The rest of us wait to continue until they get back. Ten minutes must go by before Haymitch and Gale return and find their seats silently.

"I'll finish the story now," Johanna says, redirecting our attention back to her. Her interruption comes too soon; a lot of us are still sniffing and dabbing our cheeks with tissues. "Mrs. Everdeen told Gale that Katniss was at the hospital because her son was sick, and Peeta was there too after being injured in the previous day's bakery fire. Gale went to the hospital and talked to Katniss. He intended to tell her about Prim, but she was still mad at him about the bombs. So he left the truth alone and tried to figure out what Katnisd already knew. Then he fell for her again, blah blah. You know the drill.

"Meanwhile, I was in Seven working with a secret rebel organization that's dedicated to finding Hunger Days activists in the Capitol. Hunger Days activists are the bad people I told you about, the ones who want to bring it all back. The Games, isolation between districts, poverty, _everything_. We found a group of them. There's three males and one female. Normally, we turn a blind eeye to one individual activist, because what damage could one person do? We'd keep an eye on a group of four though, just to be safe. This particular group has quite a history. One of them was Head Gamemaker prior to Seneca Crane, and another one of the males worked under him. The female and remaining male worked in close contact with President Snow. Sound fishy? Just wait. All of them are currently employed under President Paylor. They're close to her, too. Especially one of them. The female. She's Vice President Rhonda Weed."

A few people gasp. Others begin to speak in worried murmurs. But Haymitch, Peeta, and I look amongst each other in confusion. "Panem has a Vice President?" I ask, feeling utterly stupid.

"Yes, brainless." Johanna speaks as if the answer was obvious. "We always did up until Snow. He didn't want one. But Paylor did, so she got one. Not sure how she chose Weed, much less how Weed even passed her background check."

"So what's their plan?" Peeta asks.

"Well, we think they're going to overthrow the democracy we've set up under President Paylor. Since Weed is close to Paylor, she may try to persuade her to make a series of bad decisions, which would lead to Paylor getting overthrown. Impeached. And the Vice President would be the next person eligible for presidency."

"So what does this have to do with Prim and your brother?" I ask.

"I wish you would be patient for once in your life, Everdeen." Johanna sighs. "Weed is the leader of her little group of tweeps, but the four of them together are the leaders of even larger group. These are the people Prim is hiding from. And my brother, if he's out there."

A hand shoots up from the other side of the room. It's Cress. "Do you think my dad is out there?" he asks Johanna. His voice hasn't quite reached its post-adolescent pitch. Even so, he sounds mature for his age.

Everyone is watching Johanna again. This time, I can see the pressure she feels to answer this correctly. If she tells Cress that Finnick is alive without any real proof besides the theory she conjured up, then she'll have to live with his disappointment if Finnick isn't found. But if she tells Cress that Finnick is dead with no proof except the tales Gale, Peeta, and I told her of the lizard mutts, then both Cress and Annie lose hope.

"I don't know," she says finally. "I want to think he is. But I can't know for sure." Cress continues staring at her, maybe hoping she'll give him another answer. "Honestly, it's probably best if he isn't alive."

The outrage painted on Annie's face gives her the appearance of someone who's been electrocuted. "Why?"

"Because if he ever was still alive, the Capitol took him and was holding him hostage. He'd be dead by now." Annie isn't comprehending Johanna's words. "Finnick is useless to them now. He doesn't have any information to be tortured out of him. He's more dangerous than he is helpful. So why would they keep him alive at their own expense?"

I can't bring myself to look as Annie and Cress lose hope in the only thing they have left to hope for. I need someone to steady me. I start to turn to Gale, but then I realize that only one person could really be of any comfort to me right now. Gale can ease me out of almost any pain, but not this. Not this pain, which he doesn't understand because he barely knew Finnick. But Haymitch did. I turn my face into Haymitch's shoulder, fully aware of my uncontrollable shaking. He puts his arms around my shoulders, not leaning into the embrace, but holding me in it.

Johanna says, "Anymore questions?"

No one comes forward. Everyone just shakes their heads, and I surprise myself by doing the same thing, even though I still have so many unanswered questions left. Questions to which I desperarely need answers. But they aren't things I can ask Johanna. They're for Gale and Peeta.

"Alright." Johanna pulls the cap from her marker and throws it aside. Her marker sits in position at the board, ready to write. "Now let's discuss what we're doing to stop this . . ." She fumbles for an appropriate word.

"Conspiracy," Beetee chimes in.

"Yeah, that's it. Good job, Volts," she says. "We'll discuss what we're doing to stop this conspiracy. Haymitch and I've been talking about this for a while. There's no reason to take a full military team without proof that more than one person is in danger. They wouldn't approve of the mission, anyway. Our only option is to go in ourselves."

"That's where Squad Four-Fifty-One comes in?" Rendwick asks, grinning.

Quake looks around at each of us, his eyes wide with excitement. "Hell yeah!" he exclaims. "Finally!"

Johanna says, "If we don't come up with a plan, we won't have a Squad Four-Five-One."

"Four- _Fifty_ -One," Quake corrects her.

"Potato, potato," Beetee says. "Please continue, Johanna."

"Actually, I'll take it from here," Chippe says, rising to her feet. "We're calling it Squad Four-Five-One because we want to honor the team that handled Panem's last conspiracy. Hopefully, our luck will be as good as theirs was. The new, improved Squad Four-Five-One will consist of Rendwick, Quake, Saller, Cress, Johanna, Katniss, Peeta, and Gale."

"I'm going in?" Cress exclaims excitedly.

"Absolutely not!" Annie objects. Her fury drives her up from her chair. "A thirteen-year-old can't be a soldier!"

"Please, mom!"

Haymitch steps in now. "He won't be a soldier. He's going to the Capitol to save Finnick."

"If he's even alive," Annie says. "It isn't worth losing Cress without knowing for sure."

Haymitch shrugs. "You do what you want." He gestures around the room. "You _all_ do what you want." His eyes touch Gale, then come back to rest on Annie. "But if I were you, I wouldn't want to lose a single chance of rescuing my dead partner."

* * *

 **A/N: I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for a while now! It's a little longer than usual but it answers a lot of questions that you guys have been asking about Prim and Gale's relationship, why she's in danger, etc. There's still LOTS more to be answered in chapter 30, so keep an eye out for that chapter!**

 **Until then, leave me a review and tell me what you thought about the chapter! And don't forget to ask about anything that's still unclear to you because I can either work a more detailed description into the next chapter, talk about it in the author's note for next chapter, or I can send you a PM about it. And lastly, let me know what questions you have that I haven't touched on yet. Next chapter will explain (to some extent) Maysi's tracker and the plans to bring down the Hunger Days Activists. Again, I can work other explanations into the chapter if you let me know what's confusing you!**

 **One last thing. I want to thank you all SO MUCH for helping this story reach almost 300 reviews! That is absolutely AMAZING, you guys. It's such a blessing, really. I love you :)**


	30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

The meeting was adjourned shortly after Annie lost her temper. Then we had to go to the _Capitol Craze Magazine_ photo shoot, where I was dressed in a dozen different ridiculous outfits and accesorized by a dozen ugly jewelry items. To me, the photo shoot couldn't have gotten done soon enough.

Now, Gale and I are sitting on the rooftop of the Training Center basking in the late afternoon sun and enjoying each other's presence. My head is in his lap. He traces along my hairline while I watch his eyes, which are intensely focused on my hair.

I close my eyes and try to imagine being born into a perfect world. Gale and I would never have met then, because I wouldn't have had any reason to be in the woods that day in the spring. Now, I imagine living in a world with no Hunger Games and no Capitol. Just District 12. I think I would've married Gale one day. We wouldn't have been afraid to have kids. We wouldn't have to live in fear of the annual reaping.

I suddenly remember something from the squad meeting this morning. "Gale?"

"Hmm?" he says brushing my hair back from my face. His leg shifts slightly under my head.

"What did you think? When you first saw Maysi?" I ask.

There's a long pause before he says, "I thought I was seeing things." He laughs even though he doesn't think anything's funny. "No, that's not true. I knew exactly what I was seeing. And I knew exactly who she was."

"How?"

One corner of his mouth turns up slightly. "She looks just like you. Her hair, those few little freckles, her nose, her smile . . . But not her eyes." Gale's eyes glaze over. He looks away from me, to something far off in the distance, something unreachable. "She has his eyes."

"What about Will?"

"The first time I saw him - in person - was at my mother's house. He looks exactly like Peeta. It's crazy."

We fall silent. In this relaxed period, I allow my eyes to close. With a sigh, I clear my head and lose myself in the feel of his gently running up and down the side of my rib cage, leaving tingling goose flesh in their wake. Without warning, my mind wanders to lips against lips and skin against skin. I can feel my face grow hot with embarrassment. My eyelids fly open and I'm hoping he can't see my flushed face. But he's staring into the sunset thoughtfully, paying no attention to me. I allow myself a moment to admire the sky, too. For a moment, I wonder if it's real. If he's real. If any of this is real. With the orange-pink sunlight of late afternoon and the reddish-purple clouds floatinf over the skyline, Gale's own beauty is illuminated. It's almost as if Gale was made for sunsets. Or maybe we both were, because this moment together could not be more perfect.

"I wonder what she'll be like," he says quietly and suddenly. His eyss flicker down to me. "The baby, I mean."

"Her parents made history books. I'm sure she'll live up to expectations," I joke.

I expect him to reply in a similarly playful manner, but he instead becomes serious. "I don't want her to be famous. I don't want to have to share her. I want her to be ours."

I can't contain the _whoosh_ of breath that is sucked out of me. His words seem to have awakened me to something familiar, something I can't quite place until I remember the last time I was on this roof. For the briefesr instant, my free day with Peeta before interview night of the Quarter Quell flashes before my eyes. We were on this very roof watching the sunset together, my head in Peeta's lap as he played with my hair. If I've lived this moment with Peeta, has Gale lived it with Prim?

I feel sick to my stomach. The realization of how wrong this is cuts me like a knife to the gut. I jplt upwards, scaring Gale half to death, and scramble to my feet. "I'm going to shower now," I say quickly.

He looks startled. "Everything okay, Catnip?"

"Yeah," I reply. The answer comes too fast, it isn't believable.

He gets to his feet as well and places one hand on my cheek. The intensity of his concerned eyes melts holes through my anxiety-stricken ones. "Really, Katniss."

I sigh. "It's just . . . Peeta."

"You still have feelings for him," Gale says. It's not a question or even a realization. He says this as if he knows it to be true. And to some extent, he's right. But I've learned something about myself this week - that I don't love Peeta the way Gale thinks I do. Before I have the chance to correct him, he sighs. "You can't be happy if you're thinking about him."

"I can't help thinking about him when you and I keep re-enacting moments I had with him," I say.

Gale is reading me now - something he does when he's trying to figure out what I'm thinking. His eyes dart back and forth between both of mine as he searches my face for emotions and takes note of my body language. And because he's the one person in the world who truly understands me, he usually finds whatever it is I'm trying to hide from him. This time, he is quiet for longer than usual.

"What is it?" I ask.

"You still love him. And no matter what I do, you won't be able to stop loving him. I knew it thirteen years ago. I should know better now."

He turns away to leave. I fling my arms out to stop him and end up with my fingers just barely grazing his arm. "Gale," I say.

"Save yourself the time and don't deny it, Katniss."

"Yeah, okay, I love him. But it's not like that!" I protest. "I wasn't thinking when I married him, Gale. Neither of us were. He was still dealing with the effects of being hijacked. We were both diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. I was still hurting over Prim and was living alone."

"You got married two years after she died," Gale counters. He puts emphasis on the word died to indicate that she didn't actually die.

"I know, but-"

"Quit making excuses for your feelings. I get it. I know you love him. You don't have to lie about it. All I'm asking is that you pick a side. If you love him as much as it seems, then maybe he's the one to pick." My mouth hangs gaping open and in my speechless, he continues. "You have a thousand times, anyway. You've never been so quick to run back to me."

"It's different with you, Gale. It doesn't feel the same."

Gale's hand slips down to my stomach. He taps the area with his index finger, implying that my feelings for him are different because I'm pregnant. Hormones and all.

"Don't use that against me," I warn.

"I'm not," he replies. "But I realized something yesterday. I never heard you say you loved me until you found out you were pregnant."

"Yes I did! And what does that have to do with anything? I mean, why would I? I thought it was obvious how I felt!"

"Look, we made a mistake, alright? I'm not saying I don't want this. I'm just saying it wasn't right."

"How was any of this a mistake?" I ask.

"You're married with kids. I'm married to your sister, with a son."

"You don't love her, though," I interrupt.

"It doesn't matter, Katniss. The point is, I've only been back for a few weeks. You didn't have time to start loving me. Surely you know that."

In the heat of the moment, I lose control of my temper. The words that escape now are unprecedented for me. "I never stopped loving you, idiot!" I shout at him.

Gale's body goes still, his eyes unblinking. For a few long moments, he just stares at me. Then something in his face gives. It softens. He takes several steps toward me and for a moment I think he might kiss me. So I'm surprised when he stops inches away from my face and, in a voice as calm as the undisturbed ocean, says, "You keep saying you were dumb in love with Peeta. Seems more like you're dumb in love with me."

He's starting to walk away again, but my limbs won't move and I can't run after him. All I know is that I can't let it end like this. I try to move my lips and make them form his name, but a garbled sound is all that comes out.

He turns back around. "You know, in nineteen years of knowing you, I can't remember ever really getting along with you."

His words bite into me, ice cold and bitter in a way I've never felt. I want to scream at him. I want to tell him all the horrible, malicious things that are crawling on the surface of my tongue now, clawing at my lips, waiting for the second my mouth opens to allow them to swarm out. It takes everything I have, but I manage to swallow the rage that's caught in my throat. Only then do I remember that this is the man I fell in love with on that November afternoon in the woods. This is the only person I want. So why do we make it so hard to love each other?

"Why do we make it so hard?"

At the sound of my voice, a small piece of his hostile demeanor withers away. I can see it. Sentimentality creeps out through the crack in his armor. "It doesn't have to be hard," he murmurs. He takes a step back to me as he speaks. "It can be so easy."

And now he's standing in front of me again. His eyes are smoldering, burning me alive like a wild flame. There's something to be said about the effectiveness of eye contact, I realize now.

Seconds ago, we were spitting mad at each other. Somehow we have switched over to this entirely different mood. And I can't find it in me to mind. So when he closes the distance between us and his lips go immediately to my neck, I don't object. His warm breath soothes my cook flesh and I shiver involuntarily at the change in temperature. He chuckles at my reaction and moves his mouth to mine. His arms snake around my waist and pull me closer. Always closer, never farther.

If only the same could be said of our relationship.

I lose myself in the kiss that surrenders to our differences. Or our similarities, I should say, because isn't that the problem? We are too much alike for something as trite as differences to be our trouble. We share a fire, a passion like no other. Coals burning. Becoming flames. Sparks flying. So what if we fight? This is what we are. This is what we do. And for now, I'm okay with it.

Later that night, when I wake in his arms and feel his head buried in my hair, I realize what we are. Disastrous. Together, we can never be sane. We can only destroy each other. Despite this new understanding of our relationship, the atmosphere of it is of the sharpest confusion.

This isn't how love should feel. Nothing should feel this way, not even hate. Because hate - though sometimes blind - is at least rational. What Gale and I have is stronger than that. Were drawn to the feeling that our relationship brings. It's thrilling and deafening, safe yet destructive.

I'm in love with it.

* * *

The plans are set, the decisions made. On Saturday, we board the train. Twenty-four hours from then, we arrive back in District 7, where Johanna's rebel organization has its headquarters. We'll meet them there, present our "conspiracy theories," as Beetee likes to call them, and decide what to do from there.

Today, we are having our final interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Luckily, all of our team made the cut so none of us were sent home. This works out well for our plan.

When I woke this morning, Gale was gone. I went to the dining room to search for him and instead found Haymitch, Effie, Peeta, Amanda, and Portia waiting for me.

"Looking for Gale?" Peeta had asked. He didn't wait for my answer before continuing. "Effie sent him away for the morning."

"You, Peeta, and Haymitch have to focus on your interviews. There's no time for distractions," Effie explained.

After breakfast, Peeta and I spent two hours getting coached by Haymitch and Effie. When I asked Haymitch why he didn't have to be coached, he calmly answered that he had nothing to hide, whereas Peeta and I needed to learn to watch our mouths from here on out.

Six hours post-coaching, I was finished being prepped by my prep team. They were more excited than I've ever seen them, exclaiming things like "I've been looking forward to this day!" and "It's such an honor that out of all the victors, you were chosen for a final interview!" Because of the unnecessary hype, I was mentally finished with the interviews before they even started.

Besides Amanda and Portia, I was the first to see my interview dress. When I am dressed, Amanda invites my prep team to come look. The dress is so impossibly stunning that my prep team is brought to tears. They burst into hysterics, showering Amanda with endless compliments and praise. Why? Because I am no longer a cutesy teenage girl, or a child made up like an adult, or a symbol of rebellion. Tonight, I give the phrase "spread like wildfire" a literal meaning.

No longer am I the fire itself. Long ago were the days when I was something as simple as fire. By now, I am on top of the fire - literally. I am the flickering blue tips of the hottest flame imaginable. My high-heeled shoes are a deep blue with a red-gold hue. They appear to devour my feet when I walk in them. The bottom of my dress is only a few inches shorter in the front than in the back, and is adorned by vertical waves of fabric that appear to be flaring strips of flame. The dress is tighter around my waist, though not so tight that I look like a mermaid (that's the style Saller's stylist went for, a shiny rainbow-colored dress that is fitted at the top and flares towards the bottom.) As you travel up my dress, the blue slowly becomes lighter. But it doesn't fade, nor does the color lose its intensity. It simply lightens, shade by shade. The top of the dress is blue like the sky on a winters morning, only more vivid. Amanda refers to the straps that circle my neck as a "halter."

My hair seems to match the icy-tipped flame theme perfectly. It's an intricate French braid that wraps into a slightly off-center bun. A few small, short waves frame the sides of my face.

My complexion is flawless. My cheekbones and nose are chiseled to perfection. My cheeks are dusted with shimmery gold powder that makes my cheeks glow like a newly conceived flame whenever I flush. My lips are stained with red lipstick that contains blue hues to accentuate my dress. My eyelids are dusted with warm, neutral brown powders. My eyelashes are given proper attention with black eyeliner and lash extensions.

All in all, I am stunning. Spectacular. Magnificent. Fiery. Intimidating. Beyond reproach. No one will cross the girl on fire tonight.

Now, I stand in the wings of Caesar Flickerman's stage, watching Quake's interview drag on. This round of interviews is given a time limit of five minutes, despite the audience's pleas for more time.

It doesn't make sense to me, why the interviews of this round would be half the length or less than the ones of the previous round. Then Haymitch explains it, and I think I understand.

"Don't you get it?" Haymitch says. "They want to leave unanswered questions. They want to leave everyone wanting more." He grows irritated when my perplexed look doesn't disappear. "It seems that you came here under the impression that it would all go away after this. Well, newsflash, sweetheart. It doesn't end here. It doesn't end anywhere. They'll be after us for the rest of our lives. Even after we're dead, they'll continue harassing our family and friends. We shouldn't have come here at all because now we'll pay the price."

"You told me to come," I hiss at him.

"You've got to remember that we're supposed to be giving these people a second chance. And I tried. But bringing you kids only put things back to the way they were thirteen years ago. If anything, we supported it by showing up and parading around the Capitol like a bunch of hooligans for their entertainment."

"You make it sound like we're in the Games again."

Haymitch shakes his head. "No. We're not dealing with a concept so simple as killing kids. This is the real deal, Katniss. The thing I should've been training you for all along. We're not in the Games, we're the game itself. We're the pawns. And those people out there?" He gestures to the thousands of people in the audience. "They're the players, the ones controlling you. They're the ones that are hunting you."

Peeta and Gale have materialized behind us in time to catch Haymitch's explanation. "Ladies and gentlemen," says Peeta, "let the Thirst Games begin."

"The Thirst Games?" I say with an edge of doubt in my voice.

Peeta shrugs. "They're thirsty for power and we're dehydrated, but we're sharing our water supply with them so they can live to keep playing the game."

Haymitch and I exchange fearful glances. Peeta's right. They're thirsty and we're supplying them with our water, leaving ourselves dehydrated and weak. Something has to change.

My face loses any trace of my precious doubt. I turn to Haymitch. "What do we need to do?"

"There's nothing we can do," he replies. "Except to keep your private life private. That is, if there's any of it left."

"There has to be something we can do to draw them away," I object.

Gale speaks up now, reminding us all of his silent presence. His shoulders are rolled back and his muscles are flexed from tension. His face is stone cold, lacking in any emotion. "Take me out there with you," he says to me.

"What?" the other three of us exclaim, gawking at him incredulously.

Gale's next reply is meant for my ears only. Not for the audience, or the other victors, or even Haymitch and Peeta. He grabs my shoulders and looks me in the eyes, speaking quickly and seriously. "If you take me out there, we can set things straight. We don't have anything to hide anymore. They've already taken everything."

My eyes connect with his in an attempt to communicate my desperation. The audience begins to roar and I can't hear myself think, so I turn my head and watch Quake exit the stage as Saller steps out. They cross paths onstage, which gives Quake the opportunity to place his hands on her waist and give her a kiss on the cheek. It couldn't have lasted more than three seconds, but it causes the audience to go crazy. But eventually they settle down, and I am forced to look back to Gale.

"You can't go," I tell him. "They'll tear you apart. They'll ask you questions you can't answer. What if you slip up about Prim? About Lane?"

"I won't," he says.

"You can't know that," I argue.

"Will you quit making excuses?" Gale snaps.

"He's right," Peeta interrupts. "It'll distract attention from me and the kids. And watching you interact with each other could help you gain some sympathy from the crowd. Isn't it what everybody wants to hear? The story of forbidden love and making it out of the friend zone?"

My realization that Peeta is right clashes with a second realization: that the crowd wants to hear the same story from Peeta. This leaves me torn, but inviting Gale onstage with me is much safer than going out on my own. And Peeta is outgoing, funny, and creative. Surely he can come up with an angle other than Heartbroken Ex-Lover.

I'm in need of a distraction, so I turn back to the stage and watch Saller's interview. Tonight, the interviews are starting with the most recent victor from each district, so Annie comes next. Her interview goes by smoothly. Her relief is easy to see when Caesar mostly asks her about Cress instead of Finnick.

A few interviews later, Johanna's name is called and she comes dancing in from the "exit" side of the stage, surprising everyone right off the bat. She's wearing a tight black dress that reaches three quarters down her thigh. Wrapped around her waist is a skinny, silver, studded belt. Her shoes are strappy and black, her eyes are smokey, and her hair is in a long, straight high ponytail. Johanna's interview consists mostly of questions about her long list of short-term lovers, her association with the other victors in these past thirteen years, and her current job - which remains a mystery to everyone, as she always carefully avoids these questions.

Then Basa Green cross the stage in a shiny green cocktail dress that shows more than it covers. Caesar, who is a bit too interested in the victors' love lives this evening, questions her about her list of past and present lovers as well. Basa's list is five times the length of Johanna's.

It continues to blow my mind why these people are so interested in this sad excuse for a woman. And then I realize, they're interested in her for the same reason that they're fascinated with my life. It's no wonder Basa spoke to me in the elevator about my relationship with Gale. She thought she had finally found someone with the potential to be as promiscuous as her. The Capitol eats that up.

This is still running through my mind when Caesar calls my name. Haymitch practically shoves me onstage, leaving me stumbling out into the crowd's view. Then he grabs my shoulder and jerkily yanks me back behind the cover of the wings.

"What now?" I hiss at him through clenched teeth.

"You're forgetting your boyfriend," Haymitch says, pushing Gale forward. "Alright. Good luck out there. Sounds like Caesar will get a real kick out of both of you tonight." He winks at me sarcastically.

Right. Isn't it lucky that Gale would join me on the night that Caesar is in the mood to pick and scratch for romance?

I glance up at Gale. He nods down at me in reassurance. I reach for his hand and let his fingers fill the gaps between mine before we step onstage. I stop to hug Parry as he passes us to reach the bleachers; Gale watches the exchange with one hand resting at the small of my back. Then he leads me the rest of the way to Caesar. Caesar embraces me, then says a few comedic opening lines. Gale's presence seems to be making Caesar strangely uncomfortable; he refuses to make eye contact or give him any greeting at all. Despite this and to my surprise, Gale handles himself nicely onstage. He behaves with an air of confidence that I wish I had.

"A surprise guest is here with us tonight, it seems," Caesar says to the audience. He directs his next words to me. "Would I be correct to assume that this handsome man is Gale Hawthorne, your not-so-secret lover?"

I cringe at the term "lover." Gale notices my hesitance and takes my hand again. Our fingers interlock. His thumb traces gentle shapes on the back of my hand, making the skin tingle after each touch. I close my eyes for a second, imagining an interview without an audience - just me, Gale, and Caesar. When I gaze up at Gale's face, the corners of my mouth turn up almost immediately. "Yes. This is Gale."

"Oh, would you look at that!" Caesar exclaims. "Look at that, ladies and gentlemen! The way she looks at him! That's pure gold!"

Gale and I give small, nervous laughs until the cheering quiets a little. Then Caesar says, "The two of you are quite popular in the Capitol these days. I entered a store recently and found t-shirts with 'Team Peeta' and 'Team Gale' written across them. The 'Peeta' shirts had a photo of you - Katniss - and Peeta kissing in the cave in your first Games. The 'Gale' shirts had a paparazzi photo of you kissing in some kind of forest. I won't lie, I purchase a 'Peeta' shirt for myself."

Gale squeezes my hand to relieve some of the tension building inside him. He shoots Caesar a glare that sends fearful shivers down my spine. "That's nice for you," he says to Caesar.

"Yes, um . . ." Caesar says slowly, noticing Gale's unhappiness. "Katniss, everyone was devastated by the announcement you made in your interview several days ago. Can you tell us how Gale reacted afterwards?"

The question rubs me the wrong way. Shouldn't Gale's reaction to the news of my pregnancy be private? And why were they devastated by it? They call themselves fans, but it seems they're here to ridicule us, not support us. And besides that, Gale's reaction was televised live. Why should I tell them what was said behind closed doors that night?

But there's no avoiding the question. Thankfully, Gale takes it for me upon seeing the strain on my face. "I was the happiest man alive," he says. He looks down at me with a smile that only shines brighter under the stage lights. "I can't imagine any other woman I'd rather have a family with."

What happens next isn't a played-up reaction for the audience. It's inspired by everything I'm feeling now - the fluttering in my stomach, my quick heartbeat. I lean forward and kiss Gale, my hands on either side of his face, causing him to smile against my lips. I'm almost sure that I feel the blood rush to his cheeks, a lively flush against my hands. Now he's holding my face, too, while his lips embrace my upper lip and mine take his lower one. It's a deeper, more intense kiss than any we've shared before.

I completely forget where I am and who's watching until Caesar clears his throat loudly behind us. My face turns tomato red as Gale pulls away from me. He reaches for my hand again and I take it graciously, happy to still be touching him. Our kiss made me feel more alive than anything I've ever experienced. Suddenly, the room is louder, anything with color is brighter, and shapes are sharper. I feel as if my fingertips are electrified, like my blood is a liquid flame, like my heart is a thousand pounding drums, like my body is a live wire. Everything is intensified.

Because of this, I can't seem to shake my need to be closer to Gale. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back in response. He must be feeling the same. So I stand from my chair, careful not to release my hold on his hand. He uses this small grip to pull me closer to him until I'm in his chair with him, sitting on his lap. I fling my arms around his neck, tuck my legs to the side near his, and put my face near his neck. Still I wish I could be closer. But this will have to do.

Caesar snaps me out of my thoughts with a loud laugh. "Comfortable?" he asks, eyeing me in amusement.

I nod, but I have to look down to hide my blush.

"Alright, then. Gale, this one's for you. I have an anonymous news report saying that you are actively married - as is Katniss, of course. All of us know that Katniss is the wife of a fellow District Twelve victor, Peeta Mellark. So I think we're all curious . . . who is your wife?"

My mind enters into a frenzy. Gale is purposely avoiding my eyes now, making it impossible for me to remind him of our agreement backstage. I can only hope he remembers it.

It's as if I can feel every person in the audience holding their breath. Or maybe it's because I'm holding mine, too, waiting for Gale's answer to the question that could condemn us all. I swear, the studio is so quiet that I would be able to hear if someone dropped a sewing needle in the very back of the room.

The bombshell that comes next is too smooth for Gale. He's a good liar, and an even better one when he has no choice but to lie. But this lie in particular is better than any on-the-spot story Peeta has made up. The spontaneity of it catches everyone off guard.

"Johanna Mason. I'm married to Johanna Mason." His calm and collected tone surprises me. It sounds so real. There's not so much as a hint of doubt in his voice. Almost as if he believes it himself.

Caesar is at first taken aback. But it's evident from the look on his face that Caesar isn't buying Gale's bluff, even if everyone else is. "You see, Gale Hawthorne, I wish I could believe you. But I happen to have your marriage certificate, and it says . . ." He pulls a thick piece of paper from inside a large ivory envelope and reads it. "Gale Hawthorne and Primrose Everdeen are a certified couple bound by marriage in District Two, Section Fourteen of Panem."

Horrified gasps and exclamations of shock echo throughout the studio. The audience is as bewildered as I am. Because although I already knew this news, I am dumbfounded by the lengths the Capitol took to dig up this information about Gale and Prim. How did Caesar get his hands on it? And worse yet, why did he have a reason to search for it in the first place?

I catch a glimpse of my face on a few of the giant screens around the room. To everyone else, I must seem shocked. Probably even horrified. But with my own eyes, I see panic. Because Prim is supposed to be dead. Everyone has been told she's dead. I was told she was dead. They think she's dead.

One thought runs laps around my head as I watch the baffled expressions of the audience. All this time, she was supposed to be dead. Now she really might be.

I'm hit with an urge to find a small space away from everyone else and hide in it. And then cry. Or scream. Or both. This can't be happening. This isn't really happening.

I duck my head down near my lap, squeeze my eyes shut, and clamp my hands over my ears, hoping to block out the shouts of confusion and outrage coming from every direction. The crowd is louder than I've ever heard. I can't escape their noise.

Gale's face is next to mine now. He has his hand on my back. I hear a faint monotone that sounds like him but I can't make out words. I think maybe he's trying to calm me. But it's too late for that. It's far, far too late for that.

It sounds like the noise from the crowd is growing louder with every second. Suddenly, the frenzy is broken with an ear-piercing shriek from someone nearby. After a moment of confusion, I begin to suspect that it came from me, because someone picks me up and carries me offstage. The person murmurs words that are meant to be comforting, but I still can't understand them. I can't make out words. All I can think of is Prim's safety.

Is she okay? Is she still hiding out somewhere? Does the Capitol know she's alive? Of course, they do. Caesar Flickerman just announced to the entire country that she was married to Gale.

I lay my ear against my carrier's chest and shut my eyes. Then I roll over in his arms, curling up even tighter against his chest. My last thought before falling into oblivion strikes me as unimportant in the flurry of trouble that surrounds all of us now, yet I can't help but hope.

 _Has Prim heard the news about Gale and I? I hope she hasn't . . ._

* * *

 **A/N: I want to apologize for not posting yesterday like I promised. I was super busy over the weekend and couldn't finish the chapter in time, but I'll still try to post again on Tuesday this week as usual. I also want to apologize for not answering any questions this chapter, which is something I also promised. I had an entire scene between Peeta and Katniss planned out where she asked him how he knew about Prim (since Johanna didn't discuss that in chapter 29) but the chapter turned out to be REALLY long (like, ten thousand words) and I decided I'd have to split it into two chapters. So I promise that more answers will be in chapter 31!**

 **By the way, I'm super excited that we started Part 3 last chapter! The quote at the beginning of the chapter was really good, I thought. It told a lot about what's going to happen in the next few chapters, so if you didn't read it closely when you read the chapter, go back and read it now!**

 **As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Don't forget to leave a review for this chapter :)**

 **READ THIS! I'd really like you to tell me what you'd like to see in coming chapters. There's going to be a lot of drama and adventure and whatnot, so I'd like to know what you guys would like to see other than that. More Gale/Katniss moments, more Peeta/Katniss moments (I won't write any current romance stuff between them but I could fit in a flashback or two), more flashbacks period no matter what the topic, more about the other victors...? You tell me! I want to write what you want to read!**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: A LOT is going down in this chapter. There are some major plot twists are waiting for you. You've been warned!**

* * *

\- CHAPTER 31 -

"Um, hello!" Gale and I turn to find Johanna shouting at our retreating figures. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides and her jaw is clenched. "We have some talking to do."

We let her catch up to us, then walk the rest of the way to the elevator. Upon arriving on our floor, Gale flops down into an armchair, and I sit at a stool by the bar counter. We barely have time to get comfortable before Johanna focuses her harsh glare on Gale. "Care to explain what the hell that was?" she demands.

"It was just a cover-up, Johanna. Relax," Gale says wearily while rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"It doesn't matter if they think it was real, dummy!" she argues.

"Look, I was just trying to protect Prim. Isn't that why we're here to begin with?" he says. She crosses her arms and purses her lips. "Right. So go find somebody else to chew out."

"Nobody believed his story," Peeta assures Johanna. "And besides, Caesar had proof that Gale lied. They won't question that."

"Whatever," Johanna huffs in irritation. "Listen. We need to make plans for tomorrow. We're supposed to attend President Paylor's dinner tomorrow night. That'll give us a chance to scope out what we're dealing with. We might get to meet Paylor, and if we're lucky, Weed."

Gale laughs. "It's pretty screwed up that we're hoping to meet the Vice President instead of the actual President."

I contribute a few chuckles to his laughter, but the silence from the others grows uncomfortable, so we let the sound die out.

"Joke around all you want. It's only the lives of your loved ones we're talking about," Johanna says as she steps back into the elevator. As the doors are closing, she grins. "See you tomorrow night, squad."

OUt of the blue, everything from my interview tonight comes back to me. Johanna's departing comment reminded me of why I'm here and why these next few days are so important. It's all for Prim.

I suddenly lose my balance and my knees buckle beneath me. Then my eyes snap shut and the world goes still.

* * *

I guess I must've passed out. When I come to again, I'm on the couch in the living area of our Training Center floor. Gale, Peeta, Haymitch, and Effie are gathered in the area with me. I can hear the TV playing recaps of tonight's interviews.

The moment my eyes open, Gale notices. He releases a huge sigh of relief. I can tell from years of knowing him that he's worried but for my sake, he plasters on a strained smile. "You had me worried there, Catnip." He backs up his comment with a nervous chuckle. He clears his throat to cover it.

Probably ten questions overwork my brain suddenly. I want to ask how long ago I passed out, if Peeta and Haymitch got to do their interviews, and how the crowd reacted when I left in the middle of my interview. But just like before I blacked out, there is only one thing at the very forefront of my thoughts. "Prim?" I say, unable to come up with more words.

"She'll be okay," Gale reassures me, stroking the side of his hand along my cheek.

"No offense, but it's not really in your control whether Prim's safe or not," Peeta interrupts.

Gale narrows his eyes in Peeta's direction. "Watch it," he growls.

The two of them stare each other down for a minute.

"Whatever. I'm going to bed," Peeta announces, rising to his feet. He starts walking to the hallway.

"Katniss and Gale are sharing again," Haymitch warns him.

"I figured as much," Peeta calls over his shoulder wearily before heading to the room that was originally assigned to him.

It's a little past midnight when I finally slide in bed next to Gale. He wraps his arms around me from behind, pulls me flush against him, and presses his lips to my neck. He kisses my jaw, down my throat to my shoulder, then my collarbone. I roll over to my other side so I'm facing him. When I do, my eyes land on his lips. This sight and his close proximity temporarily takes my breath away. The feeling of embarrassment for being this close to him is new to me; I haven't felt this way around him in years. But I can't seem to tear my eyes away from his lips.

Without warning, I lurch forward to close the inch distance between us and latch my mouth onto his. The electricity that I felt during my interview returns instantaneously. The sensation only intensifies when his teeth graze my bottom lip, causing me to gasp.

Gale chuckles at my reaction. "Didn't mean to scare you there, Catnip."

"It didn't scare me." I grin, becoming distracted as my hands find his shoulders. Smoothly defined muscles go across his entire upper body. My fingers slowly slip down his chest to his stomach, where they trace the lines of muscle. My eyes flicker back to his face, where he wears an amused smile.

"What?" I say, brushing my fingers of my right hand up and down his arm.

"Nothing. You're just so . . . sexy," he says finally.

"That's a new one," I giggle, intrigued by this new word for me. I don't have much time to ponder it, though, before I'm distracted again by the perfection of his face. One of my hands reaches up to slowly trace the high points of his cheekbones, the slope of his forehead, the curvature of his eyes, the line of his nose, the bow of his top lip, and the fullness of his bottom one. It seems like hours later when I slip my arms around his neck and whisper, "I love you."

Gale smirks at this. "Want to hear a secret?" he asks. I nod eagerly. He leans forward until his lips are brushing against my ear. Then he whispers, "I love you more."

My breath catches in my throat now as he rolls over so he's hovering over me. Deep in my belly, something starts doing somersaults. Nothing else in the world matters to me right now except Gale. So I don't object when he kisses down my neck again, down my chest, and to my stomach. Only then do we both simultaneously remember something. He lays back down beside me.

"This isn't the smartest idea, you know," Gale murmurs.

I roll over and prop myself up on one elbow, trying to disguise my disappointment at him stopping. "What do you mean?"

He touches my stomach with a firm, slightly callused hand. His eyes don't stray from it as he says, "I don't know, Katniss. I don't want to . . ." he trails off.

"What?"

"I don't know much about . . . pregnancy and stuff."

My look becomes questioning. "But you were with Prim when-"

He shakes his head, interrupting me. "You know that situation. Me and Prim . . . it was only one time."

"Well, it's just you and me now." I wrap my arms around his neck again and am about to kiss him when I notice the distant look in his eyes. "Gale."

The phrase "snap out of it" can be applied in a literal sense now. It's as if someone has snapped their fingers and brought Gale back from whatever far-off place he was visiting. "What?"

I search his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong," he says.

"It's about Prim, isn't it?" It's clear that I'm right because he sighs runs his hands through his hair. "You can tell me," I say.

"I don't need to drag you into it. It's in the past. All you need to know is that I didn't have feelings for her."

"Well, I'm starting to question that," I say, slow and unsure.

He stares at me for a long moment. Then he begins mumbling incomprehensible things under his breath in frustration. "I told them you wouldn't buy it."

"Buy what? What are you talking about?" I ask. I sit straight up on the bed, but the movement is too quick. Combined with my confusion, I have to rub my temple to get myself back in check.

"I don't get why they didn't just tell you the truth to begin with. Who do they think they're protecting?" Gale continues muttering under his breath.

"Gale!" I say loudly enough to get his attention. He appears to "snap out" of his own argument again. "What are you talking about?"

"Katniss," he groans. "You know that I could never do that, even if it was to protect her for you."

"Do what?!" I cry.

He winces at the loud volume of my voice, but proceeds to say, "I never had sex with Prim, Katniss. Not even once."

It takes a second for the information to click in my head. My eyebrows furrow. What is he talking about? If he never had sex with Prim, then how . . .?

A thousand things begin running through my head. Rory was the only Hawthorne at Gale's wedding. Rory was the only Hawthorne who knew about Lane. Rory was a close childhood friend of Prim's. I'd always suspected they'd become something more someday - Prim's glowing pink cheeks and Rory's nervous chatter when they were around each other were dead giveaways. They adored each other.

Everything is starting to come together now. But at the same time, nothing makes sense. At a pace slow enough for my own brain to process what I'm saying, I ask, "Lane is Rory's son . . . isn't he?"

It's in Gale's silence that I find the answer.

* * *

The next afternoon proves to be eventful. Since I was just preppe last night, there isn't so much to be done today. I only need my hair, makeup, and outfit done.

Amanda proves to be extremely talented when she shows me the dress for my grand finale tonight at the President's mansion. I'm wearing a simple, green, silk gown that flows out to my feet. Since the gown has only thin spaghetti straps, I am wearing a shimmery brown shawl around my shoulders. My hair is in a loose but sophisticated low bun. My makeup is fairly neutral other than the smokey edges of my eyelids and the dark red lipstick that is somewhat dull in comparison to the lipsticks I've worn in the past.

As we're meeting up in the entrance in front of our elevator, ready to leave, Haymitch tells me that Gale has been declined an invitation to the party tonight. This news worries me. Why did they decline him an invitation? Did they hear about his and Peeta's fight at Caesar Flickerman's party and decide not to risk it happening again? Or did they get suspicious after seeing Caesar pull out Gale's marriage certificate to my "dead" sister?

Whatever the reason, I'm unhappy because of it. So later that night, while everyone else is enjoying the dinner and dessert buffets, socializing with old friends, and dancing, I slip outside onto the balcony overlooking the wide stretch of land in the back of the mansion. I allow myself to get lost in my thoughts, to ignore the cold air that makes my skin bumpy with goose flesh. So I am a little jumpy when I hear someone's voice say from behind me, "Tough night?"

Peeta is standing in the open doorway, watching me. Golden light coming from inside the mansion pours out onto the marble of the balcony and the green lawn below it. The light illuminates his back, leaving his face shadowy. He shuts the door carefully, cutting off the small light source, and strolls across the balcony to me.

"Mine hasn't been that great, either," he says.

I lean forward with my elbows resting on the railing. I am utterly exhausted. No matter how big Peeta speaks, he can't possibly know how drained I feel now.

We're quiet for a long time, it seems. We're both absentmindedly admiring the stars above us and the lawn below us.

"It's a full moon tonight," he observes. After a few moments, he says, "Everything good happens under a full moon."

"What do you mean?" I ask curiously. The topic seems so out of place and so relaxed in the midst of the chaos disrupting our lives. But then, Peeta always had a way of calming me even in the hardest times. It scares me how quickly I've forgotten even this small piece of him. Of us.

"When I was a kid, my father used to take me to the Meadow," Peeta begins.

"He did?" I ask, surprised. Peeta has never told me about this before.

"Yeah," he says. "We only went on summer evenings. My mother and brothers would be in bed, but my father was never much of a sleeper. He'd wait until he was sure they were asleep. Then he'd sneak to my room, help me tie my shoes, and we'd go to the Meadow."

"What did you do there?" I ask.

"Everything but sleep," Peeta chuckles. "We'd pick wild flowers and make little crowns, pick wild berries and use their juice to paint pictures on stones. . . . And on really special nights, when there was a warm summer breeze and a full moon and a thousand twinkling stars, we'd lie in the grass for hours. Just the two of us, watching the sky. We didn't talk on those nights. It was too . . . sacred. The crickets chirping, the moon shining down on the empty Meadow, shooting stars flying across the sky." Peeta looks at me now. "It felt magical. Like I could feel every single person who had ever been there. Not physically feel them. Spiritually, maybe. That's why I thought it was so beautiful that all those people who died in the bombings and in the war were being buried there, in the Meadow. Because I remember being a child and thinking that I would like to die there some day. It'd be so peaceful."

Peeta is quiet for a while after this, just staring at the sky. When he turns his head and finds me still standing beside him, he smiles a little and looks down bashfully.

"That's beautiful, Peeta," I say softly. Without thinking, my hand reflexively reaches for his. He glances up at me and I see the lines of worry digging into his otherwise perfect forehead. Again, my body overloads my brain. My free hand gently brushes across the lines on his forehead. Peeta's lips part slightly. The warm breath released from between them creates a cloud of air above him, changing temperatures upon contact with the freezing winter air.

His hand slips out of mine and reaches up to grab my other wrist, trapping it there. "Katniss," he murmurs. "Don't."

"What?" I ask, baffled. Is it against the rules for me to hold his hand?

"Don't act so distant and then start holding my hand like we've known each other for years."

"We have known each other for years," I argue. The relaxed sensation that our previous topic brought on is dissipating quickly.

"Katniss, you aren't the only one who was hurt by your decisions," he says.

"I know that!" I persist. He inhales deeply to gather his decreasing level of patience. I speak again before he has a chance to. "Just tell me what I can and can't do, alright?"

He drops his grasp on my wrist and sighs. "Let's start with no touching. For now. Look, you're my friend. You have been since we allied in that first arena. But we can't act like nothing ever happened."

My eyes are suddenly damp. It feels like someone is stabbing a dagger through my throat from the inside out. But I nod and swallow my pain. "Okay," I agree quietly, trying to disguise the fact that I'm choking.

He doesn't say anything else at first, and I'm glad because I need some time to compose myself. After a few minutes, he holds out his hand. "Come on and let's take a walk."

"I thought this was off limits," I say.

One corner of his mouth flicks upward into a half-grin. "Just this once, I'll allow it."

He leads me back into the president's mansion. The guests are too busy dancing and eating and socializing to notice us maneuvering through them. Before long, we reach a back door that leads to the flower garden. When Peeta first twists the doorknob, my breath catches in my throat. This was President Snow's rose garden. But then I get a better look at it.

Yes, this once was President Snow's rose garden. But since his death, the garden has been transformed into something beautiful. There are hundreds of different kinds of flowers planted here, and each type has a small golden plaque stuck below its brick perimeter - the perimeters are two bricks tall and stretch around each flower grouping.

"How did you find this place?" I ask, wandering around the garden in awe.

Peeta chuckles. "We came here on the Victory Tour and stayed for a while after the war, remember?"

"Oh," I say. "It's beautiful."

"I know," he replies. "Follow me."

I follow Peeta through a maze of flowers until we reach a small opening at the back of the green shrubbery surrounding the garden maze. "What's through there?" I ask.

He smiles. "See for yourself."

I take a tentative step forward and immediately understand why Peeta took me here. Beyond the shrubbery and behind the garden is a wooden bench surrounded by neatly-planted primroses. I lose my balance temporarily and drop to my knees in front of the bench, cradling the petals of a primrose in my hands. "It's so cold. How are they living right now?"

"I'm not sure. Probably some kind of chemically-altered soil," Peeta replies. "Do you like it?"

I carefully get back on my feet and shake my head in disbelief. "It's beautiful."

Peeta steps forward and sits on the bench. He pats the space beside him, which I take. "I have to explain some things," he says once I'm seated. "That meeting a few days ago didn't answer any of the questions you have about me, did it?"

"No," I admit.

"Why don't you just ask whatever comes to you?" he suggests.

"How did you know she was alive?"

"Haymitch," Peeta replies. "He told me the week Gale came back. He said, 'A lot of things are about to change around here. It'd be in your best interest to know what's going on.'"

"Did he tell you about the others? Finnick and Saller's parents and Quake's girlfriend?" I ask.

"No. That was news to most of us, I think. But he told me about the tracker."

I raise my eyebrows at the mention of the tracker. As far as I know, there's only been one tracker. The one used on my daughter.

"When? What did he tell you? Why?" I ask, shooting questions from my tongue faster than I can come up with them.

"Right after you found out about it. He said he talked to Johanna about it, and she thought the Capitol was tracking Maysi because they thought she was Gale's."

"Why would they think that?" I ask.

"Have you ever seen her?" Peeta says rhetorically. "She's full-blooded Seam."

"Why would they track her just because they thought she was Gale's?"

"Because if it's Gale's then it's Prim's." My still-perplexed look makes him go on. "If they had already caught on about Gale and Prim, then-"

"None of this makes sense," I interrupt him. "What would they get out of knowing her location?"

"They'd know yours," Peeta says quietly. "And they'd know Gale's. They couldn't just plant a tracker in one of you. There was no way to do so without raising questions. But if somebody on the inside was able to chip Maysi - somebody who knows us well - then-"

"Then they could know our location, too," I say. This realization leads to more. "They tracked her because they thought if she was Gale's, she would be the one around him most often, and he would be around me."

"Exactly," Peeta says.

"So what do we do now?" I ask.

"The only thing we can do. We board a train to Seven tomorrow."

* * *

 **A/N: A lot happened in this chapter, right? You got answers to at least two major questions and a bonus answer to something you didn't even know about (Rory and Prim)! I can't take credit for that idea entirely though. Thank you so much Eleid!**

 **I want to thank all of my reviewers for the sweet and encouraging reviews I got for the last chapter! That was probably the best feedback I've gotten from any chapter yet. I'm so happy that you guys liked it. Hopefully this chapter has the same effect :)**

 **As always, please leave a review and tell me what you thought of the chapter or the story overall. Let me know what you liked and didn't like about this chapter, what you still are confused about, etc. I love you SO much. You guys are the best!**


	32. Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

It's early morning. The last time I saw a clock, it read seven o'clock. That feels like hours ago but I doubt it was. Time is never on my side, so it certainly won't be on our long trip today.

We're on our way to District 7 now. Somehow, all of Squad 451 has managed to board the same train. And I'm glad we have. I couldn't handle this trip without the distractions that come with large company.

All of us - Rendwick, Quake, Saller, Annie, Johanna, Chipper, Haymitch, Peeta, Gale, and myself - are sitting in the social car, where there are two long couches and a large television screen that is attached to the back wall. The TV is playing a three-hour "special edition" recap of the reunion. Those of us who aren't talking and joking around - things that take our minds off the troubles at hand - are watching the recap. From time to time, someone will hush the rest of us so they can hear the TV. Other than that, we're all surprisingly calm. Or pretending to be, anyway.

"The Capitol's going crazy over you, you know," Quake says.

"Me?" I ask.

"Yes, you," he replies. "Some of them are petitioning to get you to come back and finish your interview with Flickerman. Since you walked out without proper dismissal and all."

"Well, I'm not going to," I mumble.

"Try telling them that." He sighs. "The people there love you."

I gawk at him incredulously. "Are you kidding me? They don't love me. I don't think they love anyone. Love isn't forcing my sister to go into hiding. Love isn't planting a tracker on my six-year-old daughter's back. Love isn't judging me for loving someone they didn't approve of."

"Okay, okay," Quake says, holding his hands up in defeat. "I'm sorry. Maybe I used the wrong word."

"Maybe," I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest and looking away.

Quake gets up and leaves without another word to me. Honestly, I'm fine with it. I'd rather not talk to someone with such a Capitol-favoring opinion. Even after he's gone, I continue staring out the window, ignoring everyone around me.

The miles and miles of woods that stretch between each district reminds me of my woods back home. Homesickness strikes me suddenly, making me realize how long it's been since I've seen my kids or hunted in the woods of District 12 or slept in my own bed.

The woods. There's so many trees here. I wonder if 12's woods stretch as far back as they do here - wherever "here" is. I could find out if I really wanted to. Once I get home, I can take Gale and we can trek as far out as we want to. And we could bring the kids. Lane and Maysi, that is. Will is too young; he'd get tired quickly.

Someone sits beside me, interrupting my train of thought. "Hey, Catnip."

I don't move my eyes from the passing trees outside the window. "Hey, Gale."

He watches me for a moment, then asks, "What's going on up there?"

"What?" I say, turning my head to look at him.

Gale restates his question. "What are you thinking about?"

"Oh. Um . . . home. And the kids. And the woods."

Gale doesn't respond right away. When he does, he surprises me. "I thought I would miss it. But I don't."

"You don't miss Lane?" I ask.

"Yeah, I miss him. But he's with Rory. He's . . . in good hands."

Something seems to click in my head and I remember laying in bed with Gale two nights ago and finding out that Lane is Rory's son, not Gale's. I'd already gotten so used to the idea of Gale being a father. I guess the truth is taking a while to register.

"Look, I'm sorry I lied to you about-" Gale begins.

"Don't apologize. You were protecting him. So, uh, how did it happen?" I ask.

"Lane?" he asks. I nod. "Rory stayed with us for a few days after the wedding. I had to work overtime that week, so I guess that's how it happened. Two months later, told me she was pregnant. She was scared out of her mind. Poor girl couldn't stand the thought of giving him up, though. She loved Lane the second she found out about him."

A small smile lights up my eyes. "She loved everything she laid her eyes on."

"I know," Gale agrees.

There is a long, shared silence between us. "What?" I say, eyeing him questioningly.

"I already love ours, too," he says. At first, I wonder what he means. Ours? But then I know. He's referring to the baby. Our baby.

I beam at him, so big and bright that my cheeks begin to ache. But I can't seem to force it away. "We haven't had much time to think about it."

"I know." His grin still hasn't faded yet. "We have time now."

I sigh and look away to hide my disappointment. "Barely."

Gale raises his arm and wraps it around my shoulders, then wraps his other arm across my torso. "Don't worry so much, Catnip. We have tons of time."

When combined with Gale's comforting words, the stress fades and my helplessness gets the best of me. I lay my head on his shoulder and relax against the side of his solid body. "I don't know what to do," I say quietly.

"Well, we can go see the doctor first thing when we get home," he suggests.

"Bad idea," I respond quickly.

He raises his eyebrows. "Going to the doctor is a bad idea?"

"No. I mean yes. I . . . I go to my mother."

"But she doesn't have the technology-"

"I know that, Gale. I just have to go to her."

"You have to?" he asks.

My breath begins to catch in panic. I haven't told him yet. I never intended to. But now I'm caught in my own story. How can I avoid it? I try one last cover-up. "She knows what she's doing, okay?"

Gale's grip around me began loosening when our back-and-forth disagreement began. By now, he isn't touching me at all. He hasn't scooted away, though. He watches me with a rock hard stare, unwavering from his determination to find out what I'm not telling him. When I don't give in, his expression softens. He takes my face in his hands, leans in close enough to make our eye contact unbreakable, and says, "You don't have to be scared to talk to me."

I can't hide underneath my perfect facade any longer. So I let the words come tumbling out. In turn, I begin choking. It's a miracle that I even make it through my confession at all. "I-I lost a baby. A long time ago. Me and Peeta, we wanted another baby. I'd had a miscarriage before, so we saw the doctor up until the fourth month. Then we stopped going. We thought we could handle it without paying to see a doctor every few weeks."

"Katniss-" he begins, but whatever he tries to say after that is thrust down in his throat, unretrievable.

Hiccuped sobs bring tremors that disturb the stillness of my body, but I don't stop. Doesn't Gale deserve to know that there's a chance of the same thing happening to our child? I owe him the truth. So I keep going. "We went to the hospital the day he was due. I didn't feel anything yet but it was the day, so Peeta and I went anyway. The doctor took forever checking up on whatever he was checking on. And then he left the room for a long time. When he came back, he said . . . he said there was no heartbeat. It was a stillbirth." My tears aren't having any trouble finding there way down my cheeks now. "I didn't know anything was wrong! I still wonder after all this time . . . What could I have done to save him?"

Gale is speechless. "You should've told me. I could've helped, I could've done something."

"What we're you going to do? Come to Twelve and help me through it? Help explain to my kids when they asked, 'Why is Mommy crying so much?' There was nothing for you to do."

I see Gale's realization take place. His argument is ineffective. He couldn't have done anything and he knows it. Besides, he couldn't have handled it. Seeing Peeta and I together back when we were still young and in love would've been the worst torture anyone could've given him.

Gale's hands go to my shoulders and his eyes lock mine in place. He stumbles for words. "That isn't going to happen to us."

An attempted smile turns into a pained grimace that smears itself on my features, making my face wretched to the bare eye. "Want to know what his name was going to be?" I ask.

"What?" he says softly.

"Gale," I whisper. The tears - which never really went away - are back. Streaming down my cheeks like a river.

Something in Gale's eyes falls like rocks in a landslide. "You were going to name your son after me?" he asks.

I give a weak nod. "Peeta was the one who suggested it."

"And you were okay with it?" he asks, surprised.

"By the time you came back, I wasn't that mad about Prim anymore. That was my excuse for acting like I did towards you. I guess some part of me was fooled into thinking that you were the reason the baby . . . died. I knew you weren't, but I-"

"Still felt it," Gale finishes for me. "I get it. He would've been a great kid, you know."

I let the moment pass. Wipe my eyes, swipe an annoying strand of hair away from my face, clear my throat. Then I change the subject. "I was thinking about names," I begin. Gale raises an eyebrow. "And I thought of something."

"Have at it," Gale says.

"Okay. Um, a friend of Peeta's, Delly Cartwright - you know Delly - named her daughter after herself and her husband, Nelson. They combined their names and named their daughter Nelly. So I was thinking it would be cool if we did the same thing." I glance up at Gale, who seems unresponsive. "Never mind, it's a stupid idea."

"No, no, I like it. What did you come up with?"

I hesitantly say, "Kale."

At first, he seems to be thinking. Then he says the name a few times as if tasting the combination of letters on his tongue. "Kale." His hesitance suddenly turns into glee. "I love it. Kale. It's perfect."

"Only if it's a girl," I say quickly.

"It will be. I can feel it." With a cheeky grin as wild as a deer, he lifts me up from my seat and begins spinning me around and around while I laugh, tilting my head back and enjoying the breeze our movement creates. When he sets me back down, I'm a little dizzy. The world starts flip-flopping suddenly and I nearly lose my footing. Luckily, Gale slips his arms around my waist for support and helps me stand back up on both feet. "Whoa. Careful there, Catnip."

I can't help but giggle at how positively flustered I am by being this close to him. His face is so close to mine that his breath tickles my skin. My focus, as it often does, zeroes in on to his full, pink lips. His eyes travel down to mine, too.

"I love you," he whispers. He is unable to tear is eyes away from my lips, which are inching closer and closer to his. And now they're touching. My hands slip to the back of his head, one twisting itself in his hair and the other pulling him down to me. His hands grip my hips and pull me closer. I can't fight off the exhilarating shiver when our torsos touch, our bodies flush against each other.

The kiss lasts for what seems like forever. Then he pulls away slightly and leans in to my ear. "Do you love me?" he whispers into it.

The sound of his voice and the close proximity of his body makes my eyes flutter shut, savor in the moment before I answer, "Yes."

"Then let's get out of here."

Luckily, the other victors have been distracted by the TV and each other for the duration of our conversation, so we're able to slip away unnoticed. We escape to a private room away from the others. The moment we're alone, we don't hold back. We simply let go, because what more is there to do? Holding back will get us nowhere. We're both starting new chapters of our lives. Somehow, against all odds, that new chapter includes each other. So for the time being, we forget the things that are going wrong, we forget the things we don't understand. We simply become one being in our own happiness. We release the longing we've had for each other since the day we met, although it will never fully go away. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel wrong about being with Gale.

* * *

It's hours later when we finally arrive in District 7. I wouldn't have noticed we were here had it not been for Haymitch, who clambered into the room carrying a short glass of whiskey, which threatened to slosh straight out onto the carpet.

"Well," he said when he came in. "It's no wonder no one's heard a peep from either of you. You're too busy making out on somebody else's bedspread. You know, slobber stains may come out of fabric, but the history doesn't. Think about the person who has to stay here next."

Gale looked down and chuckled. His long eyelashes hid the passionate look in his gray-blue eyes.

"If neither of you have anything to say then I'm leaving," Haymitch said after eyeing us carefully. "Get up and make yourselves presentable. We'll be at the station in ten minutes."

It took us exactly that much time to get ourselves "presentable" again. Five minutes was taken up by more kissing - which I finally had to pull away from because the last thing I wanted was for Haymitch to walk in on us again - and the other five minutes was actually getting ready to leave the train.

Now, I'm stepping out onto the platform at District 7's train station. The attendants at the station are already taking our bags from the train and carrying them to cars, which will take our bags to wherever we'll be staying tonight.

Gale steps down onto the platform after me and I immediately feel his presence behind me, the warmth radiating from his chest and the pressure of his hand at the small of my back, guiding me away from the crowd of people from Seven who have gathered to see us.

As he walks behind me, I suddenly turn around, causing him to screech to a halt. His face stops just a short distance from mine. I laugh when I see his surprise.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Gale asks, chuckling.

"No, I had a question. But this is pretty funny," I reply.

"Ask your question before I have to kiss you," Gale responds jokingly, but his eyes on my lips tells me he means it. He must be overwhelmed by our closeness as well.

"Fine. Do you know where you're going?" I ask.

"I've been here a dozen times," he says. "I know exactly where we are."

I let him continue to guide our way. We keep walking until we reach the front of the train station, where we wait for the rest of our group. Peeta is the first one to find us.

"Hey," he says breathlessly.

"Why are you panting?" Gale asks.

"Had to run. Lots of reporters around. They we're asking questions," Peeta answers.

"Where's everybody else?" I ask him.

"I don't know. I lost them. But Quake was answering questions for the reporters and Annie was stopping at the concessions counter to get Cress a snack, so . . ." Peeta trails off.

"Well, looks like we'll be waiting for a while," Gale says as he plunks down on a wooden bench. I sit next to him and Peeta awkwardly sits at the far end.

We wait for at least ten minutes before we spot Saller coming our way. Her blonde hair is loose and wavy, cascading down her shoulders like sheets of gold. She wears a long white coat that comes to her mid-thigh. It's made of some thick material with a velvety feel on the outside, and wool on the inside. Around her neck is a dark red scarf. She wears dark denim pants that slide into her dark leather boots nicely.

"Cool boots," Gale says upon seeing her.

"Thanks," she says as she approaches us. "I liked Katniss's, so I had some made for myself."

I give her a polite smile to hide the annoyance I really feel. My boots aren't meant to be a fashion statement, they're meant to be comfortable.

The automatic doors at the front of the train station building open and the rest of our group comes pouring out. Once everyone is gathered around or near our bench, Johanna gets a head count. Then she says, "Alright, people. It's four o'clock right now. I have a car waiting for us in the parking lot. Let's go."

The whole group follows Johanna down the sidewalk at the front of the train station. She's right; waiting just a half-block away is a long, black car similar to the one we rode to Caesar Flickerman's party in. Upon climbing in, I notice several things about this car. First, that it has seats around the perimeter of the car, unlike the one I rode in earlier this week. Second, that there's no way District Seven had one of these high-class vehicles just waiting around for someone important to use it. And third, that the driver - a middle aged man whose face lacks any sign of emotion - is dressed in a very familiar uniform. Yes, I've seen it before. I've worn it before, even. It's a standard-issue rebel soldier uniform.

My jaw drops at the sight of this man, wearing this dangerous ensemble. If anyone saw him wearing it, he could be taken in for questioning or maybe even accused of treason.

"Katniss, get in," Gale says behind me. He gives my back a small push. I glance over my shoulder at the short line of people waiting to get in after me before I climb inside the car and sit down. Gale sits on one side of me and Haymitch on the other.

Fifteen minutes later, we are exiting the car and being led inside a large, hut-shaped structure by someone dressed identically to our driver. This man types something into a keypad in the wall. A second later, a heavy, metal door slides open to reveal a white-and-gray room that's business-like in appearance. Johanna steps in first and gestures for the rest of us to follow her in. Then the door clicks shuts behind us and I get a bad feeling that we're locked in.

For a moment, I find myself wondering if I really trust these people. But at my side is Gale, with his hand still resting on my back and his eyes never straying from whatever is in front of him. He seems as relaxed as Johanna and doesn't seem the least bit worried that we're locked in here. I trust Gale and Gale trusts Johanna, so I shouldn't I trust her? And Haymitch, who stands a couple of feet away from me, seems relaxed, too. Of course, that may be the result of the alcohol he was consuming an hour ago, but still. I can trust him, right? And then there's Peeta, who looks as skeptical of the whole thing as I am. But he came here anyway. I trust him, don't I?

My worry begins to fade as I glance around the room and notice that the majority of the others look just as nervous as Peeta and I do. So maybe it's not crazy that I would question my reason for being here. I exhale to release my pent-up anxiety and try to relax.

"Pull up a chair and sit down," Johanna says to us. "I have somebody to introduce." She walks across the room to a speaker built in the wall, then presses a red button.

"What?" says a male voice that comes from inside the speaker.

"We're ready," Johanna says into the small microphone piece. Then she clicks the red button again and goes back to where she was standing before. From the back of the room, the metal door begins its heavy slide. A slim man with graying hair and dressed in a dark gray suit steps inside through the door's opening. By the time the door slides shut, he has already reached the front of the room.

"Welcome to District Seven," the man says. His voice projects across the room and echoes off of the blank, white walls. "I am Beads, and this," he gestures around the room, "is Command."

Johanna quietly finds a seat. I look over at her as Beads continues speaking. The level of respect she seems to have for this man shows clear on her face. If Johanna trusts him then I should. But something about him rubs me wrong.

He's on the shorter side - probably no taller than 5'7" - and slim. He has dark hair that's graying, wrinkles on his forehead, and thin lines for lips. His cheekbones blend into the rest of his face, making it appear flat. There's a layer of scruff on his face that needs to be shaved.

But it's not his appearance that makes me question him. I'm not sure what it is, but the way he looks at us as if we're nuisances to his mission - whatever it turns out to be - has to be a factor in it.

"It's half past four o'clock in the afternoon now. The number of disruptions you give will determine what time I dismiss you for the night," Beads says. "I'll start off by explaining why you're here. You're here because this is the headquarters for the New Age Rebels. This is where we investigate suspected Hunger Days activists and prepare for the coming war against them."

"War?" I gasp.

Beads gives me a demeaning look, as if he thinks I'm a child who needs things to be dumbed down. "Yes, Mrs. Everdeen. War." He looks away from me and continues speaking to everyone else. "The war will take place as soon as there is enough evidence against the Capitol to strike against them. But it won't happen right away. It will happen slowly. So slowly that they won't even realize that they're in a war until it's over and they've lost."

"You've been told about Vice President Rhonda Weed and her three accomplices, but you don't know who they are. One of them is District One's Chief Representative in Office. That means that he votes on behalf of District One. The other two accomplices are brothers. Rig and Newt. Both of them are ex-Gamemakers. Rig, as a matter of fact, was Head Gamemaker before Seneca Crane. Newt was Rig's Second in Command and was supposed to take over as Head Gamemaker when Rig's time was up. Unfortunately for him, President Snow ordered that Seneca - who was just another Gamemaker at the time - be promoted to Head instead. This obviously made him angry, but time passed and by the time Seneca was executed, Newt had gotten over his aversion to Snow. But he never quite got over his hatred for Alma Coin.

"You see, Snow promised Newt the position of Head Gamemaker after Plutarch Heavensbee's term ended. Midway into the Quell, Newt figured out that Plutarch had ulterior motives behind his high position, and Newt planned to bring him down for it after the Games ended and Katniss was undoubtedly crowned victor. But that never happened, so he developed his hatred for the person who caused it.

"Alma Coin was the one who authorized Katniss and Finnick's rescue. She was the reason the Quarter Quell was never finished, and the reason Newt never got the chance to be Head Gamemaker. And Plutarch wasn't exactly on his friends list, either, since he was part of Coin's plan. I fully suspect that Newt was behind Plutarch's death."

Beads takes a break in his story-telling to gauge everyone's reactions. The things we're being told aren't enough, though. So I ask, "What are you doing to find my sister?"

Beads narrows his eyes at me. "Mrs. Everdeen, I am the president of this organization. If I knew where your sister was, wouldn't she be here by now?"

I've never felt a greater connection with the phrase "letting the ball drop" in my life. Because the ball has dropped from Beads's mouth and hit me square in the chest, knocking the breath from my lungs and making my heart come loose from whatever holds it up. It seems to have fallen into my stomach, leaving me with an dull throbbing there. But the pulsing is painless. It's just my heartbeat. And maybe that's what makes my throat burn with an emotion that no combination of words could ever describe. The realization that Beads's knowledge can't help me, that I can't help Prim, and that she might really be gone, unreachable in the dark, lonely world she resides in . . . it leaves an empty hole in my chest where hope used to be.

In my preoccupation, I didn't notice the uproar that has gone up. Beads is trying to ignore it and continue with whatever he has to say, but the noise distraction is too much for him to think through and no one can hear him, anyway. Suddenly, he lurches forward towards a wooden podium and beats his fist on it several times, loudly enough to quiet everyone. "Listen up!" he barks. "Primrose Everdeen went missing months ago. We haven't heard anything from her, but that doesn't mean anything bad necessarily. Maybe it's not safe for her to contact us right now. Maybe she suspects the phone issued to her is tapped. But-"

"You don't know where she was staying?" I ask, demanding his attention.

"No, Mrs. Everdeen. She was scheduled to move locations the day her last letter was sent to Gale Hawthorne. When he reported that he suspected something was wrong, we sent soldiers to check her old and new locations. She wasn't there."

"So do you think someone . . . abducted her?" Annie asks from across the room.

"I am not in a position to answer that right now," Beads replies.

"Why don't you tell us something else then?" Quake says. "Like what happened to her in the first place?"

Beads sighs. "I suppose I'll start at the beginning."

"I suppose you will," Quake says back sarcastically.

"When Katniss went to the Capitol with her squad, Primrose realized how useless she was to the rebels by staying in District Thirteen. So she begged Coin to allow her and some other nurses from Thirteen to go to the Capitol and help wounded rebels. Coin authorized the trip and a few days later, Prim and the nurses were on the hovercraft. While they were on the hovercraft, Beetee came on the airwaves from back in Thirteen and gave the pilot an update on the war. Then he asked what Prim planned to do once she reached the Capitol. The pilot made a risky, unintelligent move and told Beetee where the nurses had decided to go. The city circle. When Miss Everdeen got to the circle, she saw wounded Capitol children. She knew they were just innocent children and that they didn't know what was going on, so she rushed to help them.

"During the war, the Capitol had a group of technology specialists with skills almost as strong as Beetee's. Earlier that day, those specialists heard communication on the airwaves coming from Thirteen's hovercraft. They heard the pilot say that Prim was onboard and where they were headed. This was considered valuable information, so they took to the authorities, who used the information in their attack-planning.

"Later on that day, the plane from District Thirteen that held the bombs Mr. Latier and Mr. Hawthorne designed was intercepted by Capitol pilots. District Thirteen meant to drop the bombs whenever President Snow made his next outdoor appearance, but the Capitol decided to bomb Prim and the other nurses. Why? Because it would positively break Katniss Everdeen. And if she was broken, then her fight would be broken for at least long enough for the Capitol to win the war without her interference."

Beads's story is somehow adding up, but there's still one thing that hasn't made sense since the day I thought I watched Prim die.

"I watched that bomb exploded near Prim," I say. Every head turns around to stare at me. "I saw it. She was dead, I know it." My heart rate speeds up as I recall the horror of watching my sister get blown to bits. "So how did she get away? How is she alive?"

"Did you ever think that in the panic of that moment, you may just have thought you saw your sister?" Beads asks.

I shake my head quickly. "No. It was Prim, I saw her."

"Well, if you did then she got up and recovered, because she ended up crawling away from the scene of the bombing. She had a severe head injury from being knocked backwards onto the street, but she was alive, nonetheless."

On the opposite side of the room from me, Rendwick asks, "Why did Prim have to hide? And why are they after her now? I never really understood that."

"Miss Everdeen is hiding because the Capitol's plan was to kill her. Being a victor, I'm sure you know that the Capitol doesn't take well to a failed mission. Their plan in killing Prim was to break Katniss. But if they suspect that she's alive - which they do - then they have to assume that Prim has been told about their attempted murder and will share her story with others. Katniss, in particular. And they think that if Katniss knows, then she will start some sort of uprising and begin exploiting the Capitol's plans to murder innocent minors."

"But she does know about it and she hasn't done anything yet," Peeta says.

"Exactly," Beads says. "That's because we are still gathering information before launching into the next step of our plan."

"And what's that step?" Johanna asks. Surprisingly, she doesn't seem to know what's going on, either.

"Step Three, start an uprising."

"And what does that accomplish?" she asks.

Beads smirks at Johanna. The expression makes him look evil, like he thinks creating an uprising - which will result in innocent people getting killed by Peacekeepers - can somehow be justified by whatever he has planned. "That establishes a distraction from our rescue mission."

"Who are we rescuing everybody from?" Quake asks.

"We have a theory that someone important in the government is holding them captive in the President's Mansion. Of course, President Paylor has no knowledge of it," Beads answers.

"So who does?" Quake asks.

"Good question. But you'll have to wait until Step Four to get an answer," Beads says.

Quake's tone is quizzical. "Why? What's Step Four?"

"Assassination."

"And Step Five?" Johanna asks.

Beads grins. "Usurpation."

* * *

 **A/N: Looks like Beads has an agenda of his own! I wasn't all the way onboard with bringing this character in, to tell you the truth. I had an alternate way the story could go without him, with Johanna taking the lead. But now that it's written, I see how crucial Beads is to the plot.**

 **Just to let you know, I'm going to be super busy this week. I'll try to post on Tuesday like I normally do, but if I can't then just know that I'll have one posted ASAP. I'll definitely post on Saturday as usual though.**

 **As always, please leave a review and tell me what you thought! There was definitely a lot to discuss about this chapter! Like Katniss losing a baby, naming this one Kale, how Prim survived, Beads's explanations and plans, and anything else that stood out to you! And don't forget the Galeniss moment ;)**

 **I think I've answered most of the questions you guys have, aside from a few that are going to unravel later. But if you still have sone, please ask! Also, I would love for you guys to start telling me what emotions you have when you're reading each chapter. Emotional connection is a big thing to me as both a reader and a writer, and I'd love to know what you guys feel when you read this story. Tell me if you got teary-eyed, cried, got your breath taken away, started uncontrollably smiling, started laughing, got angry, speechless, shocked . . . tell me everything! And I love reading long reviews, by the way. Those are the absolute best thing ever :)**


	33. Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33

The key rattles inside the lock as I struggle to unlock my front door. When I finally hear the click that means the lock has come undone, I sigh in relief. Finally.

The night of our meeting with Beads in District 7 was the night I lost it. I guess it could be expected. A mother can't be without her children for long, and I'd already been without mine for a week. I shudder as I remember the heated argument I had with Haymitch last night, following Beads's announcement that we needed to stay in 7 for an indefinite amount of time.

 _"I can't stay here any longer. I need to get back to my kids." I had said, my voice sounding panicky._

 _"Will you calm down?" Haymitch drawled out irritatedly._

 _"Haymitch, I haven't been home with my kids in a week. Don't tell me to calm down!" I shouted at him._

 _"Katniss, really, the kids are fine," Peeta said. He walked over to me from across the room and put a hand on my shoulder before quickly removing it. "They're with your mother."_

 _"Yeah, my mother who hasn't heard from her daughter in over a week and is probably wondering what happened to us!" I countered._

 _"Just go home, then, dammit!" Johanna exclaimed behind me. "Why is there such a big disagreement here? Hop on the train and go home."_

So I did.

The moment I step foot into my foyer, I'm greeted by the sound of running footsteps.

"Mommy!" I hear Will shout. And then, seconds later, I see him running toward me at top speed. I crouch down on my knees in time for him to crash into me, his arms going around my neck. I pull away from my son's embrace and smile at him.

"Hey, Willy. I missed you."

"I missed you, too, mommy!" he says. He gives me a dramatized kiss on the cheek before smiling hugely.

"Thank you, baby," I say. "Where's your sister?"

Will looks over his blue, pajama-sheathed shoulder as if expecting to find Maysilee standing behind him. When he doesn't see her there, he calls out to her in the loudest voice he can manage. "Maysi, mommy's home!"

A moment later, my daughter appears from the kitchen with my mother following behind her. "Mommy, you're back!" Maysi runs forward to give me a hug. When she pulls away, she keeps her arms locked around my neck and stares into my eyes with her big, gray ones. "Why'd you take so long?"

I have to laugh to cancel out the throb my heart gives at the sound of her innocent words. I begin to wonder why I didn't start missing them more, sooner. My throat swells close as I try to explain my absence to her. "I had to take a long trip all the way to the Capitol. Do you know how long it takes to get there?" She waits for my answer. "Almost two days."

"But you were gone for a year," Maysi says.

"No, sweetie, I wasn't gone for a year," I say with a laugh. Then I hug her again, because I haven't hugged her enough lately, and because I never want to leave this beautiful, innocent, sweet girl again. "I'm not leaving again any time soon, though. I'm staying right here with you and Will. And we're gonna get in all kinds of trouble."

Maysi giggles as I touch my nose to hers. I kiss her cheek once before letting go of her and standing up.

I notice my mother standing a few feet away, watching my homecoming exchange with my children. "I was starting to think you weren't coming back," she says. I can tell she's being serious.

"Why?" I ask as I lean over to pick up Will - who is reaching his arms up to me and asking to be picked up.

"I saw how good of a time you were having in the Capitol," she replies. Then she shakes her head, as if refusing to believe something. "And the headlines . . ."

"Mother, you can't believe the media. They'll say anything to make somebody look bad."

"Oh, really? Then where's Peeta?" she asks, throwing me off guard. Of everything she could've asked me, I wasn't expecting this.

Will, who was playing with my hair absentmindedly just moments ago, suddenly looks up at me, his eyes wide with curiosity. "Mommy, where's Daddy?" he asks.

I look down at Will instead, addressing him instead of my mother. "Daddy had to visit with some friends in District Seven. But he'll be back soon."

"I miss Daddy," Will says. His pink lips are puckered into a pout and his wide, blue eyes seem damp under the light from the chandelier above us.

My heart breaks at his words. They sound so sad, as if he thinks he's been abandoned. "I know you do, baby. But he'll be home soon, I promise."

"Where's Gale?" my mother asks, interrupting my moment with Will.

I look up at her sharply, my eyes daring her to question me any further. "I'll talk to you in a minute," I say. Then I begin walking out of the room with Will still on my hip. "Come in here, Maysi," I call over my shoulder. She follows obediently.

Once we're in the living room, I set Will on the couch. While I search for the TV's remote control, Maysi climbs up on the couch cushion next to Will. I finally find the remote and hand it to Maysi. "Here, find something to watch, okay? I'm going to go talk with your grandmother in the kitchen for a few minutes."

"Okay," Maysi says. She clicks on the television and begins searching for a show to watch.

Just as I've turned to leave, Will slides off the couch and comes running after me. "Wait, Mommy!" His arms reach up to grab my hand.

"What is it, Willy?" I say.

"Don't go again," he says quietly. His bottom lip starts to quiver.

"Ah, Willy," I say, crouching in front of him. I take his chubby face in my hands and look into those shiny, blue eyes. "Mommy's not leaving. I'm just going to the kitchen. I'll be right across the hall, okay?"

"Okay," he answers. "I love you."

"Love you, too, baby," I say. I kiss his nose, take him back to his spot on the couch, and then head back to the kitchen. My mother is sitting at the table, holding a steaming cup of black coffee.

"I made half a pot if you wanted some," she says.

"I'm okay, thanks," I say. I sit down in the chair across from her and lean forward, my elbows planted on the smooth surface of the wooden table. "We need to talk about what you saw."

"Okay," she says.

"I don't know what you think I was doing for the past week, but there hasn't been a single moment that I haven't been thinking about those kids," I tell her.

"You and Peeta were supposed to be back yesterday. I'm just wondering where you were."

I hesitate. No one is supposed to know about the meeting that took place in District Seven yesterday afternoon. No one is supposed to know that there's a secret rebel organization there. But then, my mother knows that Prim is alive. So, does she know about this, too?

No, I finally conclude. She doesn't know, or they would've contacted her to be a part of the meeting. So I reply, "I was in Seven."

"Yes, I know. I saw the videos of your arrival on the news. But why were you there? Why didn't you come home?"

I don't respond.

"You could at least tell me why Gale went with you. You told me that he'd be here if I needed help with the kids. But while I was doing the dishes on Tuesday night, I looked up at the television and saw a photo that someone took of the two of you outside the Training Center. So, did you lie to me? Or did Gale lie to you?"

I sigh. "No one lied, mother. Gale changed his mind and decided to come."

"Where is he now?" she asks.

"With Peeta, in District Seven."

My mother has kept her calm throughout our conversation. She's always been good at that. Now, as she speaks again, her calmness is almost irritating. "Katniss, you're hiding things."

"I know," I say

"Why?" she asks.

"You knew she was alive." It's not a question of her knowledge. I know that she knows. And I don't bother to mention Prim's name. My mother knows exactly who I'm talking about.

"Shh!" she says, glancing over her shoulder at the door.

"There's no one listening, mother," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Yes, I knew she was," she says in a hushed voice. "But how do you know?"

I stare at her pointedly. "They finally told me, after thirteen years of making people to lie to me. One of those people being my mother."

My mother doesn't say anything back, but her silence is as good as an answer. She didn't tell me the truth because she didn't think I deserved it. Or maybe she just didn't care enough to tell me the secret that would've saved me four long years of depression and nine more years of hating one of the few people who I am sure still loves me now.

I stand up from my chair abruptly and point to the door. "Leave," I say.

She just stares at me, bewildered.

"There's the door. Leave," I repeat.

When she still doesn't move, I slide my chair backwards and go around the table to her. She stands up before I can reach her. Instead of going anywhere, she just stares at me with frightened eyes. "What were you going to do, Katniss?" she asks quietly.

I rack my brain for an answer. What was I planning to do once I got to her? Hit her? Push her? Drag her out the door? I can't seem to remember what I was going to do. I'm not sure I even had a plan. I was just caught up in my anger at her, at everyone. _What would I have done?_

I continue to stare at her with wide eyes. I need to answer her, to let her know that I wasn't going to hurt her. But my silence has lasted long enough. From it, she has received her answer.

She walks into the foyer and stands with her hand on the knob of the front door. I follow her through the house. Once I'm behind her, she turns around. "I'm sorry I never told you," she says airily. Then she opens the door and steps outside into the cold, December storm.

"Mommy, come here!" Maysilee calls from the den.

I shake my head to break my fixed stare at the door that just closed behind my mother, then walk in the den. Maysi and Will are on the couch watching TV. "What is it, Mayse?" I ask her.

"I found you on TV," she says, pointing at the screen. I follow the direction of her finger with my eyes until I'm looking at the television screen. My jaw drops open when I see what they're watching. It's a re-run of my last interview with Gale.

"I told you to find a cartoon to watch!" I scold, yanking the remote from her hand and switching the channel. "How many times have you been told not to watch those Capitol shows?"

"A lot," Maysi answers. "But I was getting to the cartoons and Willard said he saw you, so then I saw you and Gale and a man with weird hair."

"Okay, but you know better than to watch those shows," I say.

"I know, but I saw you," she protests.

"Well, next time, don't look at the screen when someone tells you I'm on it. 'Kay?"

"Okay." I'm walking out of the room to try to find the phone when Maysi asks, "Mommy, is Gale our daddy, too?"

I spin around to face her. "What?"

"That show said Gale is a daddy."

I shake my head. "No, sweetie, Gale is _going_ to be a daddy."

"He's Lane's daddy."

I pause, unsure how to respond. But I decide not to correct Maysi about the situation with Gale and Lane. It would only confuse her and besides, she doesn't even know that Lane is her cousin yet.

"Yes, he is. But he's not yours," I say.

"But you love Gale more than you love Daddy. So he's mine now."

"No, no, no." I spot a family picture of Peeta, Maysi, Will, and I at my mother's house last year. I pick up the picture and show it to her. "This is your dad."

"I know." She pauses before smiling up at me. "Are you and Gale going to get married?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Can I be the flower girl and dress up in my purple dress?" she asks. There's a glimmer of excitement in her eye.

"If we get married, sure you can," I say. I give her a small smile even though the mere thought of marrying Gale makes me sick to my stomach. With everything that's going on right now, I don't have time to be thinking of marriage.

Maysi runs back to the couch and climbs up beside Will, who's sucking his thumb calmly while watching TV. Once I'm sure she's settled and focused on the screen, I walk out of the room and begin ascending the stairs on the way to my bedroom. The continuous string of thoughts surrounding Prim, Gale, and the kids keeps me distracted.

Where is Prim? Why did Gale have to lie to me about Prim and Rory? It would've made things a lot easier for everyone if he had just told the truth in the first place. Does everyone else know that Lane isn't really his son, or am I the only one he confided in? What's going to happen while Peeta and Gale are in District 7 together without me to keep them apart? Will they fight again, or will they avoid each other altogether? And what about the kids? Does Lane know that Gale isn't really his father? Does he know that Gale and I are seeing each other?

I feel exhausted, so I don't bother to turn on the light when I get in my room. I'm just going to take a nap; the light isn't necessary. I close the door behind me and turn towards my bed. My feet are just beginning to move towards it when something is clamped over my eyes. A hand.

My throat prepares itself for a scream, but I don't have time to let one out before the person grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face him.

"Gale," I try to say, my eyes wide with relief and realization. The words only end up getting lost against his lips. His hands go to my hair, which is braided in the same way I've done it since I was a child - a long Dutch braid across my head and down my shoulder. He takes the tie from around the end of the braid and flinge it across the room somewhere, then combs through my hair with his fingers to undo the braid.

"Do you know how expensive a pack of those things are?" I ask, chuckling.

"It's a rubber band with fabric around it. I don't care how much it cost." He pushes me against the wall next to the bedroom door and holds me there as he kisses down my neck. My entire body feels wired, and it crosses my mind that maybe the only way to kill electricity is to get electrocuted.

"Gale, the kids are downstairs," I say breathlessly.

"They aren't paying attention to us," he replies just seconds before we start migrating across the room. Our mouths never break contact throughout the process. The only thing breaking contact is clothes with skin as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the floor. I run my hands down his bare chest, savoring the feel of every muscle under my hands. As soon as he has pushed me onto the bed, my arms curve behind his back, where my fingertips brush across every scar he has. Had I not caused so much trouble in the Games, we wouldn't have gotten a new Head Peacekeeper. Had I stalled just a few minutes longer in the woods that day with Gale, he wouldn't have had a run-in with the Head Peacekeeper and gotten whipped. Those scars, all of them are there because of me. It may as well have been my hand at the whip.

Either Gale read my thoughts or the slowing pace of my shaking fingers at his back tipped him off, because he reaches his arms behind him, grasps both of my wrists in his hands, and breaks away from the kiss. His eyes stare into me with a seriousness that leads me to doubt my thoughts before. "It wasn't your fault," he says.

"It was," I say, dropping my gaze from his. "If I hadn't-"

"If you hadn't _what_? Told me that Snow was after my family? Told me that we needed to run? Katniss, we should've ran while we still could. But we didn't, and that was _my_ fault. I was the one who didn't want to go. I was the one who walked away. I had it coming for me."

"No one would've gotten hurt if I hadn't pulled out those damned berries," I mutter.

"But what other choice did you have, really?" he asks. My chin begins to drop again with my eyes, but his hand grips the underneath of it, holding my gaze. "Katniss, you didn't know what Snow was really capable of. None of us did. And you know what? I don't regret a single thing I did back then, so you shouldn't either. Because fact is, we wouldn't be together right now if you hadn't held out those berries. You and I both know it. You'd be living in the Victors Village, going off once a year to teach kids how to kill other kids. And I'd still be trying to feed my hungry family and hoping that my brothers or Posy didn't get reaped."

"I made a lot of mistakes, though," I say quietly.

"So did the rest of us, Katniss! I mean, look at me." He takes my face in his hands and holds it tightly. I involuntarily lean my cheek into his hand. "I let you out of my sight. That's the biggest mistake I've ever made."

I kiss him once, gently. Then I pull back and whisper, "You can make it up to me now."

He smiles and kisses me again. This time, it's heavy with hunger. "I love you." Then his lips trail downwards. He leaves a trail of kisses from my neck to my stomach. He slows down at my stomach, gets gentler. Then he stops altogether and just stares at my skin.

I prop myself up on one elbow. "That's not fair."

"No, it's just . . . we shouldn't do this anymore."

My eyes are pleading. Right now more than ever, I need something to distract me from what's going on outside of small, safe District 12. But it seems that I can't even get that. "It's either this or I'm going to Haymitch for a drink."

Gale's resulting look is extremely disapproving. I slide out from under him and try to get up. His arms spring down, grab me by the waist, and bring me back up to him. "You're not going to drink anything, Katniss."

"Well, then don't just leave me hanging like that! You'd have been mad if I did that to you."

"Yeah, I would have. But I'm not pregnant, am I?" he says.

I can't resist laughing. It starts out as an easy chuckle and builds up to near hysterics.

"What?" he says, confused.

"I can only imagine you-" I have to break off mid-sentence before another fit of laughter hits.

"Oh, shut up," he says jokingly. He reaches across the bed for a pillow and hits me with it.

I look at him, one eyebrow raised in amusement, daring him to hit me again. "Did you just initiate a pillow fight?" I ask.

He smiles mischievously as he raises the pillow above his head and brings it down onto my arm, which I've already braced with my own pillow.

* * *

Five o'clock comes too quickly. I know the kids will expect me to start supper in a few minutes, and I can't leave them hungry. I wish this - lying in Gale's arms with our fingers interlocked and my ear against his chest, his heartbeat setting the pace of mine, the rise and fall of his chest acting as a guideline for my breathing - could last forever. But I have mouths to feed.

 _And that includes your own_ , I think after my stomach growls.

Gale glances down at me. "Hungry?"

I nod. It takes every ounce of my self-control to pull myself up to a sitting position. "I have to make supper. The kids are probably hungry."

Gale gives me a small smile. "Okay." As I swing my legs over the side of the bed and get to my feet, he stands as well. "What's for dinner? Or am I not invited?"

Butterflies flutter in my belly at the realization that nothing has ever been this normal between Gale and I. Even with Peeta, things were never so simple as staying over late for dinner or cooking together. Peeta and I jumped without thinking that it might be nice to take things slow. We weren't accustomed to slow. Back when the war first ended, no one knew what normal was.

The realization that I now have the opportunity to be normal with Gale - to take things slow despite some rash decisions in the past - is comforting. We don't have to rush. I don't have to be forced into anything. I can take my time to make sure that our feelings are the same before starting something permanent.

"You can stay as long as you want," I say. I open the bedroom door and start heading downstairs. Gale follows close behind me. When we're back on the first floor, I poke my head in the den. "Hey, I'm going to start supper, okay?"

Maysi and Will look up from their show. "What are you making?" Maysi asks.

"I don't know yet. But look who's staying for dinner!"

Gale takes a step into the room. The moment they see his face, the kids are on their feet and running towards him. Will is excited any time we have a guest, but Maysi isn't always so accepting. Her genuine giddiness as she runs into Gale's arms for a hug is adorable. "Mommy, I like Gale," she says.

Gale chuckles. "Well, it's a good thing I like you, too."

I didn't know that Gale had such a good relationship with my daughter. I guess they bonded over hunting that day in the woods, when he took her out to shoot while I stayed back in the cabin with Lane. Whatever it is, it produces a warmth that spreads throughout my whole body. The kind of warmth that you get by drinking hot chocolate by the fireplace during a blizzard, or watching the sunset in the meadow, or having someone read you to sleep. The kind of warmth that you only feel every once in a while.

"Alright, well, Gale and I are going to get supper started," I announce.

Gale looks up at me. He's sitting cross-legged in the floor with Maysi in his lap. "Actually, I think I'll stay and play with the kids," he says. "If you're okay with it. . . ."

"Yeah, that's okay." I start heading for the kitchen without him. Just as I'm passing the table to get to the counter, I hear light footsteps running after me. I turn to find little Willard, red-faced and teary-eyed. He keeps running for me until he's in my arms. I pick him up and hold him on my hip, cradling his head to my shoulder. "What's wrong, Willy?"

I can't made out what he's saying through his choked sobs. Eventually, I'm able to piece together enough to understand. "I miss Daddy. I don't want Gale."

The words feel like a stab wound straight through my heart. A lump forms in my throat as I remember saying those same words at twelve years old after losing my father. To a three-year-old, losing a parent for a week would feel like months.

"Ah, baby, he'll be home soon," I say, slowly rocking him. "He'll be home soon, I promise."

"Nuh-uh. Mr. Gale's here," he says, pouting.

"Daddy's still coming back, even if Gale's here," I reassure him. He nods a little before wiggling to get down. I kiss his head before releasing him from my arms to the floor. He runs back to the den to find Gale and Maysi.

When I get to the kitchen, I find a casserole sitting on the counter. Next to it is a note.

 _Glad you got back safely. Enjoy._

"Gale, you could've told me your mother brought a casserole," I shout so he can hear from the next room.

"Uh . . . I didn't know she did," he says. He walks in the kitchen wearing a confused look. He picks up the note and scans it quickly before dropping it back on the counter. "That's not her writing."

"Are you sure?" I ask. He nods. "It wasn't here earlier. Who else could've brought it?"

His forehead creases and his eyes are clouded with worry and confusion. "Prim."

"What?" I say. I'm about to ask if he's kidding, but if he is, he's got a good poker face. He isn't laughing or even smirking. He just watches me, waiting for the questions to come rolling in. "How do you know?"

At this very moment, the phone rings. The suddeness makes me nearly jump out of my skin. Gale - being the closest one to the phone - reaches across the counter, grabs the phone, and answers it all in one swift motion without taking his eyes from mine. "Hello?"

From where I'm standing, I can just barely hear the hum of someone's voice on the other end of the phone. I step closer to him so I can make out the other person's words better. Gale tenses up suddenly, his body rigid and stiff. "What is it?" I mouth to him. He pretends not to see me.

"Are you sure?" he asks the person on the other end. He pauses for an answer. "Okay. We'll be there."

Gale hangs up the phone and puts it back on its hook. Then his eyes meet mine. His are in a frenzy even though the rest of him seems calm. "Pack your bag again. We're leaving."

'What? Why? Where are we going?"

"To District Seven," he answers. He begins to walk towards the stairs.

"Gale, stop," I say. "This is ridiculous. We just got home. I told the kids I'd stay. I can't think of one reason to go back there and-"

Gale holds me at arm's length and pierces my eyes with his gray-blue ones. "Katniss. They found Prim."

Breath is knocked from my lungs. "Wha- What?"

"We have to go. Now."

* * *

 **A/N: I am so so sorry for the late update! Hopefully this chapter made up for it ;)**

 **As usual, please tell me what you thought of this chapter! My request for everyone this time is for you to review as you normally do, but tell me what more you want from Gale and Katniss's relationship. A** **lso, I'm trying to start brainstorming for the sequel. I had an idea but trashed it because it just wasn't good, so now I want you guys to tell me what you'd like to read! I was thinking of focusing it around both Katniss and Maysi as she grows up. Idk, let me know! I love you guyssss**


	34. Chapter 34

CHAPTER 34

It takes exactly three hours to reach District 7 by hovercraft. And add in the half hour it took Gale and I to each pack a bag and get to the landing strip - each district was given a landing strip after the war to ensure that in case of another war or uprising, hovercrafts could get in and out of the districts easily. So, all together, it takes us three and a half hours to reach 7.

Now, we're watching the hovercraft rise back up into the air. The icy January snowstorm is strengthened by the wind gusts that surround the ascending hovercraft. As soon as it's above us and flying away, I begin to search around me.

Haymitch was the one who called Gale and told us to come back. He said he'd be waiting at the landing strip when we arrived. So, where is he now?

Gale stares at something behind me. He lays a light hand on my shoulder, then lets it slide as he walks away wordlessly.

"Gale?" I say. I look in the direction he's headed and spot Haymitch sitting inside the open door of a sleek, black vehicle. I follow Gale to the car. When we reach it, Gale steps aside to let me in first. As I climb in, I feel his hands on my waist and his wind-chapped lips on the back of my neck. My face gets hot and I scurry the rest of the way into the car before he can feel the heat under my skin.

Gale slides into the seat next to mine. He purposely leaves no room between us. The side of his leg is pressing into mine and our hipbones are touching. The freezing weather has my glove-clad hands shoved in my pockets. Gale - wearing the same arctic-inspired ensemble- doesn't try to hold my hand. We're too cold for that.

The car takes off through the district. For a few minutes, I just stare out of the window. I see rows and rows upon acres and acres of trees everywhere I look. District 7 specializes in lumber, so obviously they'd have more trees than the rest of us. But I've never seen so many in one place in my life.

"They must replant three for every one they cut down," I observe, mostly to myself.

"Something like that," Gale replies. "Kind of makes you want to go hunting, huh?"

I gaze at him longingly. "Yeah," I say.

"We'll take an all-day hunting trip when we get back. When this is all over," Gale promises.

I don't reply, just lay my head against his shoulder and close my eyes. I imagine that we're in our woods in District 12 now, hunting deer and rabbits and squirrels. In my daydream, Gale and I are just kids. I'm about fifteen, and he's seventeen. But there's something different about us here. Our footsteps are lighter, and our laughter carefree. In the dream, I lean in to kiss Gale and he kisses back. The kiss is slow, but the passion within it is strong. At fifteen years old, I had never even considered being romantic with Gale. Maybe he had, but not me. That's why the daydream catches me off guard.

I'm taken out of my reverie by the urge to be touching Gale. I fumble around on the seat to find his hand. I don't suppress my sigh of relief when I find it, my fingers closing around his unexpectedly warm skin. Gale chuckles. "Your spontaneity is really admirable lately."

I blush and lean my head on his shoulder again, not wanting to address his comment. It seems that only seconds go by before I'm being woken up by Gale.

"Katniss, wake up. We're here."

I sit up slowly, but the soreness is immediate. My hand goes up to massage the tight knot in the side of my neck. "I didn't mean to fall asleep," I say.

"I know."

"Then why didn't you wake me sooner?" I ask.

Gale smiles a little. "You were tired. And you've got more than one person to stay healthy for, now. You need sleep."

I don't argue the matter any further. Gale slides to the side to let me get out of the car. He holds my waist to keep me steady as I climb out.

"Where's Haymitch?" I ask.

"He's right there." Gale nods, across the garage that our vehicle is parked in, to a man typing an entrance code into a keypad beside a sliding metal door.

"Are we at Command?" I ask.

"Yeah. Just in a different part."

I nod and start making my way to Haymitch. By the time I reach him, the metal door is sliding open and he's stepping inside. When I walk inside, I'm immediately blinded by bright fluorescent lights. When my eyes are adjusted enough to move my hands away from my eyes, I look around. "Where are we?"

"The medical laboratory," Haymitch answers. I wait for him to tell me what I really wanted to know. "We'll explain about Prim in a minute."

My head starts spinning. If I thought Prim was really here, of course I would've been more excited. Instead, I was weary because I thought Beads found out that I went home and told Haymitch to lie to me to get me to come back here. But Haymitch's comment, "We'll explain about Prim in a minute," makes me wonder. . . . Is she really here?

My heart accelerates and my breathing is too heavy. Prim is here. She's here. She's alive and really here, just in the next room. She's really, really here.

But when I step beyond the large double doors that have been swung open for me, my heart falls into my stomach. All hope is lost. Because it's not Prim laying on the padded doctor's table that's pushed against the back wall. The table isn't even occupied. Instead, I see Beads standing in the center of the room scrawling something on a clipboard with a shiny ballpoint pen. He looks up when he hears us enter.

"You've finally arrived," he says, clicking his pen shut and standing up. "I was beginning to worry."

"No need for that, Commander," Haymitch says. "They're here."

Beads looks down at his wrist. For the first time, I notice he's wearing a communicuff. Was he wearing one yesterday? "Yes. An hour late."

"That was my fault," Haymitch says. I shoot him a questioning look. Why is he standing up for us? But he just gives me a slight shake of his head and continues his explanation. "I was worried about Katniss losing her stomach on the hovercraft. You know, with the baby and all. So I told them not to travel too fast. I apologize."

"Very well," Beads says, although it's clear that he won't be forgetting our mistake. He walks to the opposite side of the room and picks up a notebook. He flips to a page that is filled to the final line with bullet points, crooked writing, and symbols.

"What's all that?" Gale asks.

Beads eyes him carefully with one eyebrow raised. "This is the material I'm going to use in the briefing you're about to be given. Sit down."

He goes to the front of the room. Haymitch, Gale, and I each sit in gray folding chairs. The cold temperature of the metal chair reaches me through the fabric of my pants, giving me chill bumps.

The briefing begins with Beads explaining the new lead in Prim's rescue case. According to Beads, the head of the undercover-search department called him late last night with news that Prim's whereabouts have been discovered.

"What do you mean? Where is she?" I exclaim at this point in the story.

Beads narrows his eyes in my direction. "You ought to work on your listening skills, Ms. Everdeen. They're severely lacking."

I slump down in my chair and cross my arms, embarrassed at being scolded by someone like Beads. But I listen carefully for the rest of the briefing.

"Primrose Hawthorne's location was tracked by our specialists. There is little doubt in my mind that the young woman we've found is the one we're looking for. But that was last night, therefore the discovery doesn't mean much in terms of current location. She could be on the move at this very moment."

My jaw drops. "What? But you said-"

"Ms. Everdeen, you must remain calm. This is a very tense situation and I would advise you not to make things worse. Now, had you not interrupted me, you would've found out that luckily, we've been tracking her all night and have gotten in contact with fellow rebels in her area. They're bringing her back to the laboratory as we speak."

The metal double doors suddenly fly backwards and hit the wall behind them. Haymitch, Gale, and I spin around to find Quake storming in. It crosses my mind that maybe this is why his name is Quake. He can appear positively lethal at times when his anger is running high, as it is now.

He crosses the room to Beads before grabbing the front of his shirt and holding him tightly in place. "Where is she?" he shouts.

"Mr. -"

Quake shakes him by his shoulders, a movement that snaps Beads's new back and forward. "You told me she was here," he snarls.

The commotion in this room must be loud enough to be heard outside it, because the metal doors open and two guards step in.

"Break it up," one of the guards says. He goes to stand between Quake and Beads while the other guard restrains Quake.

"He lied! He's a liar!" Quake says, boiling with fury. "He told me she was here!"

"Who was here?" I ask.

The four involved in the fight look up at me, surprised that I've taken an interest in the conversation. Still spitting mad, Quake answers, "Melia. My girlfriend."

"He said Prim was here, too," I say quietly, more to myself than to anyone else.

"You bastard," Quake hisses. He breaks loose from the guard's grasp and shoves a finger in Beads's face. "So it wasn't just me. You told everyone that they were back, didn't you?"

Beads hesitates before saying, "It was not intended to be taken in that way."

"In what way?" Quake exclaims. "You told us they were here! There was no other way to interpret it! Now, where the hell are they?"

Quake gives up his fight against the restraint of the guard just long enough to listen for an answer. Beads gives him a long, hard stare. After a moment, he turns to the guard flanking his side and says, "Take him back to guest living quarters."

The guards salute Beads, then walk to Quake in near synchronization. They each take one of Quake's arms and lead him out of the laboratory. When they're gone, Haymitch, Gale, and I turn our focus to Beads.

"So, you lied everyone," Haymitch says.

"Watch your tone, Mr. Abernathy, or you'll be sent away on suspension just as your friend was. I did not lie to anyone. Had Quake listened further, he would've known that."

From the corner of my eye, I see Gale pull a folded sheet of paper from his back pants pocket. He unfolds it carefully and steps forward with his arm extended to Beads. Beads gives him a suspicious eye before taking the note and reading it to himself. Then he hands it back to Gale. "What was your purpose in sharing that note?"

"Prim wrote it," Gale says. "We found it on Katniss's kitchen counter right before we got the call to come back here."

"How can you be sure it was your wife who wrote it?"

"That was a little contradictory, wasn't it?" Gale says. "She was my wife. I know her handwriting."

My muscles go rigid at hearing Prim's name associated with Gale and marriage. Gale must sense my reaction because his hand reaches for mine and traps it in his secure hold.

"Mrs. Hawthorne isn't in District Twelve. As was stated before, we have rebels watching her movements."

"Well, then, you've got the wrong girl," Haymitch says. "If he says it's her handwriting, it's her handwriting."

Beads considers this. I jump violently when he suddenly shouts out, loud enough for the guards outside the door to hear, "Sergeant Hawthorne!"

It's apparent from the way Beads watches the doors behind us that Beads is not speaking to Gale, but to someone else entirely. Gale looks down at me in confusion. My returning glance must mirror the same thought.

We don't have time to question it further, though, because at that moment the doors behind us slide open to reveal two guards. They're not the same ones from earlier, but they could be. All the guards and soldiers here look frighteningly similar, from boot to hair cut.

Once the door is shut, the guards step aside to reveal the person standing behind them. The first thing I see is a pair of recently-shined black leather boots. My eyes travel upwards from here, taking note of the person's clothing - an updated take on the gray military uniforms we used in District 13. And then I find the person's eyes, and everything stops.

I expected my reaction to be a bit different. But then again, I wasn't expecting to be face to face with the situation so soon.

In theory, I should've been struck speechless. Bursting into tears would've been acceptable, too. Fainting would be taking things to the extreme, but I'm sure it wouldn't be looked down upon. But I don't do any of that.

"Oh my god," I whisper instead, because it's the only thing I can think to say.

My brain produces only one thought as I stare at her with my mouth gaping open.

 _You're alive._

* * *

 **A/N: I wanted to let everyone know how sorry I am for not updating sooner. I'm trying my hardest to clear my schedule so I have more time to write, but it seems like school always gets five times harder in second semester. And I'm also sorry that this chapter is so short. This chapter was honestly just an informative filler, so I didn't want to go on and on about nonsense.**

 **So, I'm pretty sure it's obvious who's back ;) I'm so excited to write the next chapter! I'm sure you're all excited, too.**

 **I never expected to get this much support from readers, especially in a fandom this big. But out of all the stories you guys could've chosen, you chose mine. That means the world to me because I love writing and knowing that I can move someone emotionally. I can't thank you guys enough.**

 **Please remember to review this chapter! Btw, you should never apologize for writing a long review because I LOVE long reviews! They make me laugh and smile, and they make me feel good because it shows how much you care about what you're reading. So if you have time, you guys should definitely drop some! Oh, and I only got feedback from one person concerning the sequel, so I'm going to ask for your feedback one more time! Love you guys :)**


	35. Chapter 35

CHAPTER 35

"Katniss," she says. She opens her arms wide, probably expecting me to hug her. But I can't move. It's not that I don't want to - I would like nothing more than to throw my arms around her, to hold her like I did when she was a child, to kiss her cheek and tell her how much I've missed her. But my feet feel as if they're glued to the ground. My mind tells them to move but my muscles will them to stay put.

Her arms slowly drop back down to her sides, and her face falls from the disappointment of my reaction.

Before the silence gets too long, Gale steps forward and embraces her tightly. "Prim," he says.

"Hi, Gale." She buries her face in the crook of his neck and smiles. Something about this small show of affection sends acid churning in my stomach. But the fact that she's here, alive and well and safe, is a far more pressing matter.

As soon as Gale releases her, I find myself walking to her in a daze. Now she's only several feet away from me, and the sense of nostalgia I have after spending sixty seconds in her presence is enough to intoxicate me.

In the blink of an eye, I am eight again and she is four. We were sitting in the Meadow picking wildflowers as the sun drops behind the hills. It was the first of two times my father took Prim to the woods. He wouldn't have taken her at all had my mother not been trying to heal a man who had lost his arm in a violent street fight earlier that day. The man had already lost too much blood and was dying. My mother didn't want Prim and I to witness it - us being so young - so she ordered my father to take us somewhere. Of course, the first place he thought to take us was the woods. We spent the entire day singing, swimming, and gathering - my father never dared pull out a weapon in front of Prim; she was too sensitive. That evening when we got home, Prim and I presented our mother with a crown woven with the flowers we'd picked in the Meadow. She kept it on her small, beaten-up dresser long past the day it's last petal dried out and died.

The memory of Prim's face as a toddler and the shock of seeing her standing before me now - without her soft childlike features or innocent blue eyes - is surreal in a way I never expected.

"Katniss, it's me," she says softly.

I continue staring at her in the unblinking manner that I'm sure I've mastered by now. How did she get here? S _ergeant_ Hawthorne? Why is she in the military? How did Beads know she was outside the door? And how does Prim - sweet, harmless Prim - know a man as harsh and pessimistic as Beads?

At least five minutes go by before I'm able to free my lungs and breathe again. It takes even longer to clear my mind of the confusion that's clouding my perception of the situation. Prim's back. I should be happy. And I suppose I am happy . . . but not happy enough.

"Katniss . . ." Gale says. I gminutes a sideways glance. Someone could spot his uncomfortability from a mile away, just in the way he shifts his weight every couple of minutes, his eyes darting between Prim and I.

My attention is drawn back to Prim, and I find myself seeing her in a different light from just a minute ago. My arms instinctively reach out to her. My feet, in turn, begin moving towards her. And then I'm holding her tightly. I plant my face in her blonde hair, which she wears down. Surprisingly, knowing that Prim is here doesn't touch me as much as seeing her hair worn naturally - something I haven't seen since we were children. My mother always braided our hair from the time we started school until our father died. Then I learned to braid my own hair and was given the responsibility of fixing Prim's, too. This brings tears to my eyes. A Prim without a braid and an untucked shirttail is a Prim that is, for all intents and purposes, an adult. For reasons I can't explain, I am fearful of this new Prim. Possibly this is because I can only imagine what she must've been through to get this way, with her eyes no longer their sparkling shade of bright blue and her cheeks no longer flushed and rose-colored with the joy of youth.

Prim starts to pull away from me. As much as I want to keep her with me, I let her go. She takes a step back and lets her eyes devour my image. They scrape over every detail - from head to toe. A small, distressed grin adorns her lips. "You haven't changed a bit, Katniss," her sweet voice says. At least this much of her old self has stayed the same. "I wish I could say the same for myself."

I can't seem to make words come out, so I take her hands in mine. That's when the words come, or at least a noise comes out, but I don't get to finish because Gale chuckles and comes towards her. "You haven't changed, Prim."

Prim slips one of her hands from mine and raises it to rest against his cheek. "Maybe you don't think so, but you haven't seen me in five years."

Gale shakes his head. "You're just tired. We all are. You're still the same Prim that everybody loves."

Prim looks away and drops her hand from his face. "Maybe. So, I guess we'd better talk."

* * *

After being given permission by Beads to report to our barracks - which is only a temporary place to stay while we're here in 7 - we trekked down dimly-lit street after dimly-lit street until we found our rooms. Gale and I were assigned one room to share. Prim's room is a refugee boarding room located inside of the main building. Prim came to our compartment with Gale and I. Had we been at our own home back in 12, the awkwardness could've been avoided with more efficiency. But here, in our small kitchen-less compartment without so much as a coffee brewer to offer guests, the situation proved to be extremely uncomfortable.

It shouldn't have been uncomfortable, though. Prim and I being reunited for the first time is something I've dreamed about for years. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to actually happen, but I always imagined it would feel carefree and happy, not utterly unpleasant. But it was, nonetheless, and there was nothing I could do to change it.

Now, we're sitting on the two stiff love-seats on the far side of the room. Prim and I are on one, and Gale is sitting alone on the other. Part of me wanted to keep Gale company, but a much larger part wanted to sit with Prim. Gale must've seen how torn I was because he squeezed my hand and whispered, "Go on and be with her, Catnip." So I went, and here we are.

Prim looks at me now, a knowing smile on her lips. "I guess you have a lot of questions, don't you?"

"Yeah," I admit. To say I have a lot of questions is a bit of an understatement. A thousand of the quizzical things come rushing through my head, getting lost among all the others, just at the sound of her voice. Her voice, which, despite her other changes, has not lost the melodic, bell-like softness that I remember so well. But I am able to pick one question easily. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know I would've, Katniss. I wanted to so bad. But-"

"Only a handful of people knew she was alive," Gale interrupts. "It's not like we singled you out."

I have to clench one of my fists to maintain control of myself. "I'm her sister. You told half the district she was alive but not me. You did single me out."

"Hey," Prim says softly. She reaches across the couch for my hand and forces my eyes to make contact with hers. Her soothing tone and unwavering calmness rub off on me, if only temporarily. "No one singled you out, okay? We were trying to protect you. Things would be a whole lot worse right now if you had known."

I nod and welcome her warm embrace when it's offered. It's strange to think how our roles have reversed since I last saw her. It used to be me protecting her. Now it seems that the opposite is true - she's protecting me.

I finally scoot away from her. A smile warms my features as I remember something. "So, I have a nephew."

"Yes," Prim replies, blushing light pink. "Rory said you met him."

"Yeah. He looks nothing like you." I laugh, and she and Gale join in.

Even when the noise dies down, Prim is still beaming with pride. "He looked just like his father," she says.

"How long has it been since you've seen him?" I ask.

"About eight months ago," she answers.

My forehead wrinkles in confusion. "But Gale said-"

"Gale says a lot of things to protect you," Prim interrupts. Then before the silence gets too long, she says, "But he also says a lot to protect me. Fortunately, Mother called and told me when you got married and when each of your kids was born. I'd really love to meet them."

The thought of my sister meeting her niece and nephew brings a smile to my flushed cheeks. "Maybe after this is all over, we can find some time for that."

The night goes by quickly. Although it'll take years to make up for the time we've lost, I'm starting to get to know my sister again. Her laugh and what causes it, her smile and what brightens it, her moods and what dulls them. Things feel almost normal - or as close to normal as things can be - when midnight comes and she decides it's time to leave.

"I should get going. It's late," Prim says.

"Just another hour, Prim. You can sleep in late if you have to," I say.

"Actually, I can't. We have a briefing at eight in the morning," she replies. Then she allows a smile to raise the corners of her mouth. "But this has been amazing."

"Amazing for you? I was the one who thought you were dead."

We can't hold back the laughter that follows. I throw my arms around her shoulders - which isn't difficult now that she's my height, if not a little taller. Our embrace lasts a while, but neither of us mind. It feels as if life was coming together again. Like finding some missing pieces from a jigsaw puzzle under your bed and finally being able to finish the puzzle.

She turns to Gale next. They share a long, meaningful look before she walks briskly towards him and hugs him tightly. He holds the back of her head to his chest. Her small waist is easily encircled by his other arm.

"I missed you, Prim," he whispers softly in her ear, though it's loud enough that I can catch the words.

He presses his lips to the side of her head. Then she steps away from him. Her eyes don't move from his. I can't be sure, but I think I see her hands shaking. But why? She isn't nervous to be with Gale, is she?

"It was good seeing you," she says in a small voice. Am I mistaken in saying that it almost sounds . . . broken? Hurt? Strained?

I must be thinking too far into things, because there is no trace of sadness on her face when she turns back around. After another hug and a kiss on the cheek, I see her to the door. It's hard to watch her walk away into the dark street alone, knowing that the last time I let her out of my sight, I didn't see her for almost fourteen years. But she's grown now. She can fend for herself. And I'll see her again in the morning.

When the door shuts behind Prim, I go over to one of the beds and flop onto it.

"Gotta love a man a man who gives us a room with two twin beds," Gale says as he collapses onto the other bed, which is separated from mine by a night stand. He switches off the lamp, leaving the TV to light up the room on its own. It casts bright blue and white lights on the adjacent wall.

"Maybe he doesn't believe in sleeping together before marriage," I say.

Gale scoffs. "Like you could get much done in a place like this."

I roll my eyes. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Oh." He sits up. "Are you one of them? I mean, you don't there's harm in just sleeping in the same bed, is there?"

I chuckle. "It's little late to be asking that question."

He laughs, too, and lays his head back down on the mattress. "Yeah, I guess so."

The peaceful quiet is mutual until I think of something else to say. "Does Prim know about the baby?"

"No."

"Should we tell her?" I ask.

"Not if you're scared of a miscarriage." He pauses to re-consider his answer. "But the rest of the country already knows. It's only a matter of time until she finds out."

"Right."

The silence lasts longer this time. I'm starting to wonder if he fell asleep, but then I hear him sigh. He's still awake.

"Gale?" I say.

"Hmm?" He glances up at me and immediately understands. He slides out of his bed and climbs into mine. The itchy blankets and thin sheets are tucked around us. The pillow behind our heads is just stiff enough to make us homesick. But it's at least comforting that Gale is behind me, his chest against my back, his arms around my body.

"Gale?" I say again.

"Yeah?"

I pause, reconsidering. He would laugh if he knew what's bothering me. Say it's a silly thing to be worried about. "Never mind."

He shifts positions slightly. "No, what is it?"

"It's nothing," I insist.

"Katniss, seriously."

"Fine," I say, exhaling loudly. "I just . . . I'm scared."

"Of what?" he asks.

A thousand words spill from my mouth on cue, as if they were waiting for permission to be released. "The Capitol. The rebels. The Games. Peeta. The kids. Your family. Prim. The baby. You. Us."

I expect him to laugh, or at least to tell me that my fears are ridiculous. That's what anyone else would do. Anyone except Peeta, that is. Peeta would want me to continue, to tell him why each thing scares me. Then he'd tell me why there's no need to worry about any of it.

So I'm surprised when Gale asks "Why do they scare you?"

"I don't know. I don't trust these people. They don't trust me, either. I can tell. No one has trusted me since I shot Coin from that balcony and left Snow to be beaten to death by that mob."

"You know why they don't trust you, so why don't you work on rebuilding their trust?"

"It's not that easy."

"No kidding," he says. "But if you want them to take you seriously then you have to try. I know why you're scared for your kids and Peeta and Prim."

"Yeah."

"But you said you're scared for us, too."

"I was hoping you hadn't caught that one," I quietly admit. He waits for me to explain though, so I sigh and begin. "There's something going on, okay? I saw it. You and Prim. And I thought . . . I thought I was thinking too far into things but then I saw you staring after her when she left and you kissed her before that and-"

"Katniss, she's my wife."

His words take me by surprise. "Your . . . wife?" I say, testing the words in my mouth. They sound wrong, just as they did when I believed in the whole marriage facade.

"You knew that, Katniss. Don't play stupid."

"But you-"

"Yeah, I kissed her cheek. I love her. She's my sister as much as she's yours. Do you love my brothers?"

"Yeah, of course I do. But not-"

"Not like that, right?" He doesn't give me time to answer. It's a rhetorical question, anyway. "So, do you really think I could ever love Prim as anything more than a little sister? I love her like I love Posy. I'll protect Prim until the day I die. As a matter of fact, I'd die before I let someone hurt Prim."

It takes a moment for me to process this. If Gale doesn't love Prim in that way, then . . .

The realization hits home much too soon, and I finally understand more of the story.

"She's in love with you," I say.

His eyes dart away from mine, unable to deny the truth and unable to confirm it. "Katniss, let's not do this right now."

"That's why you were so hurt when you came back to Twelve. Because she told you she loved you and you had to tell her that you still loved me." Thoughts continue flowing from my brain to my mouth at a constant rate. An endless stream of answers. "And that was about the time she went missing, wasn't it? That's another reason why you were so stressed out. You thought you were the reason she ran off."

Gale doesn't answer. Nothing I said required a response, though. It was all true.

He steps down from my bed and goes back to his own. "Get some rest, Katniss."

He clicks off the television and turns over on his side so his back is facing me. What a great ending note to sleep on.

* * *

 **A/N: Again, I have to apologize for the late update. I'm truly so sorry. But I won't abandon this story, I promise. I wouldn't do that in a million years! Hopefully in a few weeks during spring break I'll be able to catch up and start writing a few chapters ahead. That way, I won't get behind again like I am now.**

 **Before you say that this chapter was ooc, please imagine a REAL WORLD SITUATION where you haven't seen your sibling in almost 14 years. No, you wouldn't go running into their arms and laughing and racing into the sunset together. You'd feel strange and out of place because you have no idea what your sibling had been through and you wouldn't know what to say first.**

 **Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! And also, let me know what you think will happen in the next few chapters. Thanks for reading :)**


	36. Chapter 36

CHAPTER 36

The morning brings a number of things to keep me busy. First, Gale and I are woken by a noisy alarm clock at 6:30 a.m. We are expected to shower, get dressed, and be in the cafeteria by 7:00. This is an easy schedule to stick to for us, as we can get ready quickly. But for a gorgeous, younger girl like Saller, it's a struggle. She arrives ten minutes late - and rest assured, her absence is noted by a soldier standing guard in the corner of the room. The moment Saller arrived, the soldier went to find Beads and reported her tardiness.

Gale and I don't talk at breakfast. Or even at lunch, for that matter. Lunch is eaten at a place of our choice. I say I want to eat back at the compartment, so Gale announces that he's eating outside in the courtyard with Johanna, Quake, and Rendwick. Thankfully, Prim notices my solitude-to-be and offers to go back to my compartment with me. Our lunch is spent getting to know each other again. An unappetizing meal of undercooked quail and lumpy potatoes is made good by the lively conversation between us.

Try as I might, I can't bring myself to ask Prim about Gale. I steer clear of the topic as much as I can so I won't worry her. The last thing I need is my sister thinking that I'm jealous of her sham of a marriage to my boyfriend/best friend.

The term "boyfriend" seems so cliché and out-of-place in a world where I have never had time for a real boyfriend. Boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to date. When I was younger, people in the Seam didn't date. They'd eat supper with each other's families once a month, or sit next to each other in class. Only the merchants' outings could really be called "dates," although they weren't much different from ours in the Seam.

I suppose whatever Gale and I have can't be defined by a single word. It's more than that. Especially now that we're older, with more secrets and baggage than either of us expected. But we love each other. And love - no matter how dysfunctional - counts for something. It can't be ruined by a simple misunderstanding . . . right?

After what happened last night, I can't be so sure.

We have a briefing with Beads after lunch; the one that was scheduled for eight o'clock this morning was bumped to one o'clock this afternoon. We begin with Prim being introduced to our squad. Then Beads goes over what's expected of her and the rest of us for the next few weeks. Next, the others ask for updates on the whereabouts of their loved ones. Although I understood their desperation for answers, there are none to give.

The meeting is adjourned after Beads tells us to find something to do until supper time. I meet Prim at the door and leave with her. We head to the courtyard. Midway to the building's exit, she stops me.

"Katniss," she says.

"Prim, We have a whole afternoon ahead of us. Come on," I say, ignoring the stress in her voice that I don't notice until later.

"No, Katniss, I-"

At that moment, Cress approaches Prim and taps her arm. I know exactly why he's here. As a child, Cress was more curious than anyone I'd ever known. Annie always assumed that he'd grow out of his nosy habits, but they've only grown with age. It was painfully apparent throughout today's briefing that Cress wanted to know more about what happened to Prim. Now, with Annie off his back for a few hours, he's getting his chance.

"Hey, Cress," Prim says.

"Hi, Sergeant Hawthorne," he replies. He's wringing his hands nervously. Suddenly, I have an urge to do the same thing, but for a different reason. "Can you tell me about when you were hiding?"

Prim shoots me a questioning look - a silent request for my permission. I nod once and wave my hand slightly to show my indifference. "Yeah, go on. Have fun, Cress."

"Thanks, Aunt Kat," he says.

Prim smiles at Cress - the nurturing smile that she gives every child - and nods. "Okay, let's go outside and find us somewhere to sit."

The two of them walk away without another glance in my direction. I watch them leave. Once they're outside, I walk towards the exit again. My intention is to go back to my compartment until I remember that I'd be there alone. So rather than dwell in loneliness, I scan my surroundings. Behind me are two hallways and the door to Command. I've never been down either hallway, and there's nothing else for me to do for the next few hours, so I pick a hall and wander aimlessly down it until I come to a dead end. But it's not really a dead end, is it? Because there's a tall glass door right in front of me. It's not as deserted as I'd like - the glass is spotless, so someone has cleaned it recently - but it is secluded, which is good. I need some time alone right now. And doesn't seem to be off-limits, which is also good because I'm really not in the mood to receive a lecture from Beads.

I turn the cold, metal handle and push open the door to reveal a well-maintained flower garden. It's small, but the hedges are planted in a way that gives the illusion of being in a maze, making everything appear bigger. I round the first corner of hedges and pause when I find someone sitting on a wooden bench a few feet away. This scene immediately strikes me with a sense of familiarity, since the last time I spoke to this person was in a garden.

He must've heard me behind him, because he looks up. The sight of me brings a smile to his lips, which have been drained of their usual merry pink and transformed to a splotchy, dull color due to the cold. "Oh. Hey, Katniss."

"Hey, Peeta," I say. I ease myself onto the bench beside him. Wordlessly, we watch a group of ants crawl from the top of an ant hill in a single-file line. Behind us, I hear a moth buzzing around by the lamp post. Since the sky is so dark and overcast, the lights on the lamp posts have already been turned on for the night.

"It's nice out here, isn't it?" Peeta says.

"Yeah, if you don't mind the cold," I comment. I glance over at him. "How long have you been hanging out here?"

"Since the end of the meeting."

"No, mean-"

"Oh. Uh, since I got here. To Seven." He chuckles nervously. "Kind of pathetic, right?"

"No, not at all," I say.

The sun goes behind the clouds for a moment. A shadow is cast over the place where the ants were crawling, hiding them from our sight. When the sun emerges again, it's in vain - the ants have just disappeared behind a clump of dandelions.

Dandelions? In January? That can't be possible; they don't bloom this early. But when I look again, I see I'm right. There is a small patch of yellow dandelions right where I last saw the ants. And they're wild, too; the untouched soil around the weeds makes this apparent.

Peeta must see what I'm focused on. "I was wondering about those, too."

I look at him curiously. "Why did they come up so early this year?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't seen them growing anywhere else," he says. "Maybe it's some kind of fertilizer they used."

"Maybe," I say. But dandelions don't sprout at random, contrary to Peeta's theory. And since it's a dandelion and these bright weeds have a special meaning to me, I can't help but wonder if their appearance runs a little deeper than that. "So, have you talked to Prim?" I ask to change the subject.

"Not yet. I wanted to wait until you'd had your turn with her."

I should be polite and tell him how his gesture was unnecessary, that he can visit her whenever he likes. But his leaving me alone was just as polite as the denial I won't give him, because I'd be lying if I said I didn't need my time alone with Prim last night, even if it was with Gale.

"Thanks," I say.

"Don't mention it." He smiles a little. "I heard you talked with her last night. You and Gale both, right?"

I look down at my hands, which have become fidgety as a distraction. _Don't ask about it, please don't ask about it_ , I think.

"How'd it go?" Peeta asks like I knew he would. I could hold a whole hypothetical conversation with him in my mind and know exactly what he'd say to everything I brought up. However, predicting his actions doesn't mean I get to hear what I want to hear, and I certainly didn't want to hear this. There's only one bone in my body that doesn't object to sharing the events of last night. I mean, having someone to talk to about this new theory of mine - the one about Prim and Gale - might help me sort things out.

Even so, I hesitate. This oppurtunity to express my deepest worries makes me anxious. Peeta can be trusted, so why do I feel so uneasy? Maybe because saying it out loud makes it real. Telling someone that Prim might have feelings for Gale is like telling someone that my house caught fire. Everyone will rush in to help. And that's the last thing I want.

"Not so great, huh?" he says. My eyes snap up to him, flustered from being yanked out of my thoughts. Peeta laughs. "You're an open book, Katniss. I can tell when something's wrong."

He waits for me to continue. When I hesitate, he says, "You don't have to talk to me about it, though."

"No," I say. "No, I want to. I just don't want . . ." I sigh tiredly. "I don't want you to say 'I told you so.'"

"I can't think of a single time that I've ever said 'I told you so.' But we'll give it a spin if you want."

I chuckle once, quietly, but it's mostly to release my nerves. "I don't know for sure, but I . . . I think Prim-"

"Might have feelings for Gale?" Peeta finishes for me. My eyes are wide with surprise and confusion as I nod my head. If Peeta suspects it, could it be true?

"Katniss, I don't think you need to worry about Gale having eyes for anyone but you." He laughs - a sad sound that's poorly disguised as light-hearted. "He loves you."

"That's the thing," I say, bearing with caution. "It's not Gale I'm worried about."

Peeta's face blanks out. "Oh, Katniss, you don't think . . ."

I nod, my face strained. "Yeah. I do."

"That's . . . I mean, she couldn't."

"You didn't see them last night, Peeta," I whine out, distressed. "The way she looked at him. And her lips lingered by his cheek."

Peeta reassures me again. "Listen to me now, okay? Look. Look at me." I tilt my head slightly and gaze at him again. "The way Gale looks at you? I've seen it before. It's the way I looked at you. No, the way I still look at you." Peeta shakes his head in denial and scoffs at himself. "I'm pathetic, I know. But this isn't about me. Look, my - my point is that you can only ever be in love with one other person in your lifetime. That's how our hearts work. You may think you're in love, but it's just infatuation. Real love . . . you just know it's there. You can feel it."

He looks at the stone pathway beneath our feet to clear his thoughts. Then his focus is back on me. "I love you, Katniss. I always will. And I know you love me. But I wasn't the one you fell _in_ love with. Gale is. And it's the same for him."

"How?" I ask. None of this seems to lead back to Gale.

"Well, you and Gale were best friends. You and Prim were like his sisters. But then he realized you were more than that. I don't know Prim's feelings. Honestly, I never knew her well. But I know that she'd never hurt you. She wouldn't take Gale away from you. And she couldn't if she tried. Gale _loves_ you, Katniss. And that doesn't change. Love doesn't change."

"You're sure?" I ask quietly.

Peeta's pure, crystal blue eyes are gleaming as they peer into mine. He gives my hand a comforting squeeze. "Yes, I'm sure." A short pause is given before he says, "You know I'm always here for you, don't you?"

I nod, mesmerized by the sparkle in his eyes.

"You're still worried, aren't you?" he asks. And without waiting for an answer, "I know exactly what it's about, too. You have to understand what I said, that love doesn't change. All that time away from Gale didn't change his feelings for you. And it obviously didn't change your feelings for him, either."

I look away. Guilty bile rushes through my stomach and rinses away my worry, only to replace it with something worse. I wish I could tell Peeta that there was a time when I l really did love him. But after all I've put him through, it'd be best to keep my mouth shut.

"You know about Prim and Rory, Katniss. It all makes sense, doesn't it? Hers and Gale's wedding, Rory staying the week, her giving birth nine months later. Rory being the only one in his family who knew about Lane, and him being the one to lie about Lane in the first place."

It takes about a minute of listening to Peeta talk before everything starts to make sense. From the beginning, Peeta has known way too much about Prim and Gale and Rory and the new rebels. It always rubbed me the wrong way, how he knew more than anyone else did at any given time. And although I don't know how he's doing it, I do know one thing.

There is something very, very wrong with Peeta Mellark.

"Peeta," I say slowly, careful not to enrage the bear.

"Yeah?"

A split second of confusion hits me and I have to pause to gather my thoughts. But there's so many, and I'm no longer sure of exactly what I'm accusing Peeta of. Am I calling him a traitor to the rebels? A liar? An eavesdropper? A spy?

"How do you know all that?"

"All what?"

"About Prim and Rory, how-"

Peeta drops my hand, leaving it limp and empty at my side. "What are you implying?" he asks.

"I - I don't know," I stammer.

"Katniss, Beads went over all that at the meeting, didn't he?" Peeta waits for a response that doesn't come. "He did, remember?"

There's something in his overly-anxious eyes that tells me not to push this any farther. Not here and not now, when I'm alone and no one knows where I am. So I laugh and flick my wrist dismissively. "I think I do remember, actually. Sorry. Must be my hormones or something."

His expression twists in repugnance. The thought of my pregnancy must make Peeta sick, and it's this that ultimately leaves me in stitches. Up until now, I felt sorry for even being in the same room as Peeta, considering how things had gone down between us. Now, I have every right to rub it in his face. Because Peeta has been playing me for a while, I suspect. And it's going to stop now.

* * *

I find Gale sitting at our assigned spot in the cafeteria. I can't focus on anything other than getting to Gale, stealing him away early for the night, and telling him about Peeta. I'm too distracted to pay attention to the lunch lady, who slaps a glob of something heavy onto my dinner tray. I'm too distracted to figure out what the glob is. I'm too out-of-things to address the three people that greet me as I pass by their tables to get to mine. And when I reach my spot next to Gale, I'm too absorbed to see that he's purposely ignoring me.

"Gale," I say.

He continues talking to Johanna, who's seated to his left. I don't bother to find out what they're talking about.

"Gale," I say again.

Can he even hear me?

"Gale." My voice is a louder this time. I know he hears me now - his fist tightens around his fork and he exhales sharply. Still he ignores me.

I let the rest of the meal go by without talking to him, or anyone else, for that matter. I can't let my mind go to anything other than this current situation with Peeta. What's going on with him? How does he know all those things about Prim - things that were told to no one but me?

While I scarf down my glob of mush, I try to tell myself that I'm overreacting. That Gale told Peeta, thinking I wouldn't mind him knowing. But no, Gale wouldn't do that. Gale doesn't make a habit of fraternizing with Peeta to begin with. He certainly wouldn't go out of his way to tell Peeta things about his personal life with Prim.

Could Beads have really discussed those things at the meeting a few days ago, though? It's a possibility. What with my emotions being out-of-whack lately, it wouldn't surprise me if he'd gone over it and I've completely forgotten. Maybe my cover-up wasn't too far from the truth. My hormones from the pregnancy might be messing with my brain, leaving me confused and crazy. Or the more likely, I fell asleep during that part. Yes, that would make sense.

But maybe my instincts are spot-on. Maybe Peeta's really hiding something.

When supper is over, Gale slides up from his chair and starts heading to the trash can with his food tray. I scurry after him, running into several soldiers and nearly tripping over an apple core that fell off someone's tray and landed on the floor in front of me.

It's not long before Gale - whose head I can see above the pack of others - begins retreating from the cafeteria. I can't afford to lose him in the crowd now. Not when I so badly need to talk to him.

I discard my supper tray on the nearest table I can find and dart forward, pushing past soldiers and a few familiar faces from my squad. "Excuse me," I mutter a few times before giving up on manners. I can't see him anymore.

The dark of the night blinds me in a new way once I get outside and see that the sun has already set behind the pine trees that surround the fort on every side. I spin in circles, searching for him. He has to be somewhere. Then I spot him.

"Gale!" I call out, running after him.

He slows his pace, but doesn't stop walking. I come down from my run by jogging off into a brisk walk at his side. Even now, he won't look at me.

"Gale," I say. "We need to talk."

He ignores me. I turn my head for a moment, thinking. Why won't he answer me?

"Seriously, Gale. We really need to-"

He skids to a halt, and his military boots make a _skiiiiitch!_ sound against the concrete, making me cringe. His eyes are glaring down into mine, his irises practically red with anger. "We are _not_ talking right now. Got it?"

My features scrunch up in confusion. "What?"

"You heard me. We're not talking." He starts walking away again. His stride is longer than mine, so I have to jog after him.

"Gale, what's wrong with you? This is important!"

Once again, he stops. This time, it's so sudden that I collide with him. His hands grip the tops of my arms tightly to steady me. I glance down at his hands, then back up at him, blushing at how close he is to me. After all this time and after all we've been through, I'm still flustered when he's near me. A girlish giggle sounds from some sensitive place in my heart, despite how mad I am at Gale. His mutual anger, however, doesn't falter. His arms go back to his sides and he glowers at me, but he doesn't make an attempt to move away. He's always liked that sense of intimacy, no matter how heated an argument or how inappropriate the situation. _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer._ Or in Gale's case, just keep everyone close.

"Do you seriously not know what's wrong?" he shouts. "I know you're not that dumb."

What could possibly be wrong? Other than that argument we had last night, nothing has happened between us.

"Is this about last night?" I ask.

Gale scoffs. "I should've known you'd pretend it didn't happen. Shit, Katniss, you probably don't even see a problem with it, do you? You probably thought that somehow I'd be okay with it."

"What are you talking about?" I say, my voice rising to a defensive pitch.

"You know, I was considering giving you a chance to come clean by yourself, but I'm glad I didn't. You never would've said anything."

"I can't admit to it if I don't know what I did!" I protest.

In half of a second, he has turned around, punched the side of a lamp post, and turned to face me again without the slightest bit of pain from the hit registering on his face. Instead, he looks deadly. "Damn it, Katniss, I already know what you did! Just drop the act already!"

I back away from him as tears well up in my eyes. Whether they're from anger or fear, I'm not sure. "Don't you think I'd tell you if I knew what you were talking about?" I shriek.

Gale's eyes are glistening with fresh tears, too, now. It's hard to tell why they're there until he speaks. "You know, I trusted you. I must sound like some kind of an idiot to you, though. I mean, this was what you were going for all along, right? This is why I'm here?"

Gale takes a step towards me, closing the space I created just moments ago. His voice is shaking now. "I believed you, Katniss. You told me she was mine and I believed you. I believed you, damn it!"

He turns away and punches the lamp post again, harder. This time, his knuckles return to open air bloody and beaten. I reach out for his arm, wanting to examine his injury, wanting to heal it with my weak hands and make things right. But he snatches it away from me before I can touch him, his face twisting in revulsion. "You think we can just kiss and make up like we usually do and I'll forget what happened. But I have to draw the line somewhere. Screwing another guy . . . That does it."

Gale starts walking away, leaving me standing in the middle of the sidewalk with a gaping mouth and a pounding heart. What is he talking about? Sleeping with another guy? Drawing the line? Baby isn't his?

And then it all makes sense.

Peeta got to him before I did.

* * *

 **A/N: Oh gosh! What in the world is going on here?! Is it just a big misunderstanding, or is something deeper running around in Squad 451? Is Peeta the bad guy here, or is Katniss a little paranoid? Did he tell Gale something about Katniss, or did someone else? What is Gale really going on about? And of course, we're still wondering if Prim has feelings for Gale. Well, you'll find out soon. But in the meantime, please leave a review telling me what you thought of the chapter! I only got 4 or 5 reviews for the last chapter even though to me, it was one of the most important and highly anticipated ones yet! I mean, Prim came back! I thought more people would want to review. But I loved the reviews I did get. They were all a nice length and said exactly what you felt about the chapter. (And they were all positive!)**

 **Anyhow, please review and let me know your thoughts and feelings! I love you guys :)**


	37. Chapter 37

CHAPTER 37

I'm not good at administering revenge. I never have been. I wish I was the kind of person who let anger build up and up and up, and as that anger built, let the revenge slowly creep up on its victim. But I'm not that person, and I'm not that cruel.

I don't like plotting against people in the first place. All I ask for is a fair shot. All I ask for is a simple life. All I ask for is peace.

Of course, things can't be that simple. So I resort to revenge when necessary. Tonight, it's quite more than necessary.

* * *

The compartment door slams back into the wall behind it with a loud _bang!_ Icy air whizzes past me. It's almost as if I'm an ice scuplture, my anger acting as the lone factor that maintains my body's warmth. This comparison between myself and an ice sculpture is appropriate. In order to do what I've supposedly done, I'd have to be made of smooth and artistic, cold and unrelenting ice. A normal person doesn't cheat on her husband, get pregnant with her husband's child, tell her boyfriend that it's his baby, tell the boyfriend she wants to spend the rest of her life with him, find her dead sister (who's actually alive), assume the sister is in love with the boyfriend based on two undamning observations, run to the soon-to-be ex-husband and cry about the sister and the boyfriend, and then have sex with the soon-to-be ex-husband. The cluttered list of horrors I've supposedly committed leaves me frazzled.

He jumps up from his chair when the door opens, alarmed. "Katniss, what-"

"Is there something we need to talk about, Peeta?" I demand, closing in on him.

I'm fully aware of the gusts of freezing wind coming in through the still-open door. Peeta seems more worried about this than my furious figure approaching him.

"What are you talking about? Look, can you close the door? It's cold enough in here as it is. I can't get my heater to work."

"Believe me, you have bigger problems than getting your heater to work," I spit out.

"What?" he says.

"Let's see if you can figure out what I'm mad about," I suggest sarcastically.

"Well, clearly it's nothing I know about," he says. "You were fine a couple of hours ago. What happened? Did you talk to Prim?"

"No, Peeta, but I did talk to Gale. And can you guess what _he_ was mad about?"

"Katniss, have you been drinking?" Something in my eyes must tell him to stop there. He pauses to consider the course my visit has taken. Then he inhales and says, "This is about that stuff with Rory."

"Ooh, you catch on quickly." A female's voice. One we know well. Johanna Mason.

"Johanna?" Peeta says.

"Yeah, asswipe," she snaps. "You know, here in Seven we don't take well to liars. And it's come to my attention that you're one."

"Will you both sit down and let's talk things through?" Peeta says. "I have no idea what's going on. I haven't lied about anything."

Johanna tilts her head back and laughs once, but it does the trick. Peeta winces at its volume. "Telling your ex-wife's boyfriend that their baby isn't his, it's yours? You don't call that a lie?"

"Johanna, I don't-"

"Don't you dare deny it!" she shouts in warning. "Mellark, I swear I will knock you across this room."

"Look, I need someone to tell me what's going on! I haven't seen Gale since the briefing. Actually, I haven't talked to anyone but Katniss since then! I didn't come to supper tonight, either. There's surveillance cameras perched along every few feet of the roof. I'm sure one of them can back me up."

Johanna and I exchange glances. Peeta seems genuinely baffled. Plus, he's never lied to me before. So why would he now? Why would he be plotting against me?

Now, I realize how ridiculous I was to suspect Peeta of anything in the first place. Peeta Mellark, the baker's son, who never did a thing wrong in his entire life. Thinking logically, I can see that he never posed a threat to Gale and I. So if he didn't talk to Gale, then who did?

Johanna is on the same train of thought. "Why did Gale lie about who told him?"

"He didn't lie," I admit. "Gale never actually said who told him."

Johanna's face flushes with frustration. "You are _such_ an idiot. I swear you don't think! Why would Lover Boy even be a suspect?"

I look back and forth between the two of them, wondering whether it's a good idea to tell Johanna of my suspicions about Peeta. If I tell her, she'll call me insane. She won't understand my mindset. And if we're being totally honest, I don't quite understand it, either. All I know is that he knows more than he should, because up until recently, no one except Gale, Prim, Rory, and myself knew the truth about what happened with Gale and Prim, and the identities of my nephew's biological parents. My questioning Peeta after his information spill in the garden this afternoon was a perfectly logical reason for him to want to get back at me. If he thought I saw him as a threat, of course he'd try to distract me before I could alert someone of high authority. And what better way to distract someone than to turn a loved one against them?

But still, telling Johanna about this . . . It's dangerous business. If my hunch about Peeta is correct, then I am in the dark; he's not the person I thought he was. Any predictions I have of what move he'll make next is unreliable and could lead to any number of punishments for me. Moves and countermoves - the most intimate game to play.

"Don't be too hard on her, Johanna," Peeta speaks up from across the room. His face holds an impossible air of innocence. How can such a damaged person remain so pure?

I blink several times to erase those thoughts. Peeta Mellark is not innocent by any means. If anything, he is more dangerous to me than any of the Hunger Days activist groups, more dangerous any given person in the Capitol. He's dangerous because he knows me. He knows how I operate, he knows how to hurt me. He knows how to damage me beyond a hope of repair. And if I'm right about him - which I sincerely hope I am - then thoughts such as the ones I just had will do nothing but get me killed. Or worse yet, get someone I love killed.

"It's probably just the mood swings and confusion from the baby," Peeta continues, watching me closely. "I know she doesn't mean any of it."

I have no other choice but to go along with Peeta's idea. So I lie. Nothing too over the top, just the simple "I don't know what came over me."

I'm the first one to step outside Peeta's compartment. I'm sure Johanna is trailing right behind me, observing me quietly, but I don't care. I make my way down the flight of stairs running alongside the sidewalk.

Haymitch explained upon our arrival here that this outdoor-style apartment housing is similar to that of a twentieth century motel, something far before our time. To me, it's nothing but hazardous; the tiny snowflakes floating down around me are making the concrete steps slick and nearly impossible to use. My every step is carefully measured.

Finally, I reach Prim's compartment. After nearly fifteen minutes of arguing with Beads at supper, he consented to move Prim into the same barracks as the rest of us. But in exchange for his kindness, she had to agree to living a floor below ground level. I wouldn't have been able to do it, living underground again. Claustrophobia, cleithophobia, and taphephobia would never have allowed it.

Prim opens her door and smiles the moment she lays eyes on me. "Katniss! I thought you'd be tired, so I didn't ask you to come by."

"It's fine. Can I talk to you about something?"

Prim's brow furrows in confusion, but she starts walking back inside her compartment. I follow her in and shut the door behind me. She sits down on a stiff, brown, patchy couch in the center of the room and pats the spot across from her.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I think Peeta knows something," I say quickly. "He covered for me just now when me and Johanna questioned him in his room."

"Wait," Prim says, "In his room?"

"Yeah, we broke into his compartment. Anyway, he-"

"You broke into his compartment?" she repeats, eyebrows raised.

"Prim, that's not the point. Let me finish."

Prim puts a hand on my shoulder. "Breathe, okay? You're tense. Now, tell me what you think Peeta knows."

I sigh and lean back into the couch. "He knows that Gale isn't Lane's father. And he knows about you and Rory. And he knew about you being alive before I did, too. I asked Haymitch about it, back in the Capitol. Nobody told Peeta anything yet because they didn't want him giving in to me before it was time for me to know. Prim, there's something wrong."

To my surprise, Prim's mask of concern dissipates, allowing a laugh through her serious line of a mouth.

"What?" I say, my voice rising to a defensive pitch. "I'm being serious!"

"I'm sorry, Katniss, I just don't know why you think Peeta is bad."

"Well, for starters, he knows things that no one's ever told him!" I shoot back. "And he would've had to go to a lot of trouble to dig up information on his own. Obviously he's not working alone."

Prim's eyes are those of a mother who's tired of dealing with a child who's insistent that there's a monster under his bed. "Katniss, when's the last time you got a whole night of sleep?"

"You don't believe me," I breathe out, sitting forward once again. "Prim, I'm not kidding about this!"

She remains calm despite the accusations I throw at her. "I never said I didn't believe you. I just said you're tired and need rest. Okay?" She stands up, puts a hand on my shoulder, and leads me to the door. "It's getting late and we have to be up early tomorrow. If you're still worried in the morning, then we can talk. Is that all right?"

I nod. She didn't give me much other choice.

The last thing she says before closing the door on me is "sweet dreams."

I trudge back up the outdoor stairs, my arms crossed over my chest to keep warm in the freezing snowstorm that began while I was with Prim. Gale and I share a compartment on the second floor. The wind is even stronger at this slightly higher elevation, making the door swing back against the wall like Peeta's did.

I rush to close the door before much snow can get inside. It takes a fair amount of force to get the door shut against the wind, but I manage. Then I slide down to the ground with my back against the door, my knees to my chest, and my face in my hands.

The events of today come back to me - a replay of all I've dealt with. I shake my head and groan into my hands, annoyed. The sound is muffled, distorted.

Several minutes later, I look up from my hands and spot Gale across the room. He's sitting on the floor just as I am, watching me. Our eyes meet over the distance between us, and the contact becomes unbreakable.

Gale slowly lifts himself to his feet and starts taking small steps to me. "You know, the worst part about this whole thing is, you haven't even apologized."

My mouth opens to say something, to explain that I have no reason to apologize. Gale's hand flies up to stop me before a noise can come out.

"You knew I was coming back here tonight. You knew I had nowhere else to go. That was a presumptuous move."

"Where was I supposed to go?" I squeak out. My voice sounds weak and afraid. Truthfully, I suppose I'm both of those things. This confrontation with Gale could make or break our future, and I'm not overly confident in my ability to patch things up with him.

Gale glares at me in spite. "I'm sure your husband would've taken you in if you needed him," he spits out.

Some invisible force pulls me to my feet, rolls my hands into clammy fists at my sides. My blood pressure is rising, leaving my vision blurry around the edges. My pulse thuds behind my eardrums, leaving me heavy-headed and infuriated with every beat of my heart.

"Your wife would've been more than happy to let you stay the night, too," I fire back.

Gale is taken aback, but recovers quickly. "That's what this is about? You're jealous of your sister? Katniss, that's pathetic."

The insult hits home, because I really was jealous of Prim. Her visit last night left me wondering who could really be trusted in this whole situation. Certainly not Peeta.

Without considering what I'm about to say, the words fly from my mouth fleetingly. "Not as pathetic as you believing that I could love anyone more than you!"

The words momentarily stun both of us. Then my feet give way and I'm sinking back to the ground. My head falls back to the wall and rests there, unnatural and uncomfortable. I find that I'm able to relate to it - feeling out of place. I certainly don't feel like I belong in this room with Gale right now.

But he always manages to surprise me, doesn't he?

He comes closer to me. He looks softer than before, but not entirely convinced. "Is that true?" he says quietly.

I nod. I can't imagine how I must look right now. My face is probably a mixture of anger, exhaustion, hopelessness, and sadness. The tears are threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes and form their own river, but as they are now, they blur my vision and leave everything feeling damp and impossible. My lips are pressed together tightly and stuck in a deep frown to hold in the sobs that would escape otherwise.

Gale must know that something is wrong, that he was wrong, because he lowers himself in front of me and pulls my face to level with his. His hand remains on the backside of my head, holding me steady.

It's a silent exchange that we share now. Words would not have conveyed what our eyes do.

Gale's blue-gray irises, the color of the ocean before a storm. My dull ones that equate to the color of thunder itself. Not exactly a color, it's more of a feeling, or maybe a booming roar heard overhead.

Was I just hopeful, or did he really believe me at first? Whatever it was, it's gone now. His hand leaves my neck and falls back to his lap. He stands up, leaving me staring blankly at his leg in front of my unblinking eyes.

He leaves without so much as a goodbye.

* * *

The days that follow are no better. I want to tell Gale the truth, to tell him that his source of information was lying to him, but every time I get the slightest chance, he walks away. Like he doesn't want to hear me out. Like he doesn't want to forgive me.

Do I blame him? No, not entirely. If the tables were turned and I'd been the one to hear this about him, I'd be angry, too. Would I hear him out? That's difficult to say. After all, I did refuse to talk to him for thirteen years. But he'd made it pretty difficult for me to reach him then. I probably couldn't even if I'd wanted to.

Even just two minutes alone with Gale to explain what's happening would be useful. I'd have nothing to lose. He's already slipped from my grasp, it's not like he can slip much farther.

* * *

"And the worst part of it all?" I say between gasped cries. "I really thought I had him. I really thought he was going to let me explain."

This spoken in reference to the encounter I had with Gale in our compartment several nights ago. Gale's been spending his nights with Rendwick and Quake ever since our confrontation. I can't imagine how unhappy he must be there. The two former victors aren't exactly the type of people Gale would normally associate himself with. But I suppose they're getting along a little better now. They're getting to know each other. I saw them guffawing over a slice of undercooked bacon yesterday at breakfast. I guess it was some sort of inside joke.

I'm in Prim's arms now, crying into sleeve as she holds my head against her chest and hushes me.

"He probably wanted to listen," she tells me. "He just thought better of it."

"But I'm not sleeping with Peeta, Prim. He has to know that!"

"Shhh . . . Shhh," Prim murmurs, stroking my hair gently.

My eyes flutter shut, creating a blockade between my tears and my skin. It's like a dam - they just well up underneath my eyelashes and wait for me to open my eyes again. Then they'll all spill over.

"What if he never forgives me? What if I never get the chance to tell him?" I sob.

"You will, Katniss. He can't stay mad at you forever. He loves you too much."

I open my eyes - the tears stream down my cheeks on cue, as predicted - and look up at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," she reassures me. "How could anyone not love you?"

A hiccupy laugh resonates from deep in my chest. "In case you forgot, the number of people who actually like me - let alone love me - are few and far between."

"No, Katniss, that's not true. I love you. And Gale isn't the unforgiving type." She catches herself in her slight fib. "I mean, he is towards the Capitol, but not to you. Never to you. When has he ever held a grudge for longer than a month?"

"A month is a long time, Prim!" I wail.

"I know, I know. But try not to look at things with a half-empty glass."

"That's tough to do when my whole life is falling apart," I say spitefully. "Peeta wants to split from me, it's been almost three weeks since I've been at home with my kids for more than twelve hours, Gale believes the baby isn't his. Oh, and Peeta may or may not be plotting against all of us, but nobody believes me!"

Prim didn't have much to offer in terms of comfort after that.

I suppose the whole pregnancy thing is starting to wear on me. I'm more than three months now, and it's only now starting to show. An ever-so-slight bump on my abdomen to match the ever-so-slight "bump" on my life. In other words, everything is a disaster.

I want to get home to my kids, I want to make things better with Gale, I want to apologize to Peeta for accusing him of doing whatever I thought he did. But I can't do any of that until I finish some other tasks, and right now those tasks are either impossible or improbable. Or both.

I can't go home until this whole rebellion is over and done with, and who knows how long that could take? I can't make things better with Gale until I find out who told him all those things about me, specifically the thing about the baby, but I can't ask him when he's refusing to be in the same room as me. I can't apologize to Peeta about my accusations until I'm one-hundred percent certain that he can be trusted, and there's no way for me to know that until Gale confirms that it wasn't Peeta who spoke to him.

That's how this game is played. That's how these dice are rolled. Things just go round and around and around until the cubes stop tumbling and I get to see what disastrous twists things will take next. Die number one is cause, die number two is effect. I have no control here - this is a game of chance.

* * *

 **A/N: So, we're not getting very far with Gale right now. I know it's torturing for you guys to read it, but gosh it's bad having to write it too! So I apologize for that. Hopefully Gale can get his head out of the ground and talk things out with Katniss soon.**

 **Aside from that, we'll be moving into the rescue missions very very soon, so be ready for things to start picking up! I'm so excited :)**

 **As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter. AND I'd really like for you guys to help me start brainstorming for sequel ideas. I've only had two people comment on that, and neither of them are too keen on the idea of having joint narration between a teenage Maysilee and adult Katniss. But I'm still open to doing that if other people decide they want it. I really wanted to expand on Maysilee's character because I know she's an OC and it can be difficult for readers to feel connected to them, but she's a really interesting character and so are Will and Lane, so I think it'd be cool go expand on the brother/sister dynamic between Maysi and Will and to explore Maysi and Lane's friendship as they grow older. And of course, all our original THG characters would be there, too. And it wouldn't be one of those cheesy "surprise, the Games are back!" stories. I think you guys should know by now that I have some pretty good plot ideas up my sleeve.**

 **I'll quit rambling now, but please review your thoughts on this chapter and let me know what you want to see in a sequel. If you'd rather PM me about the sequel, that's totally fine. I love you guys!**


	38. Chapter 38

CHAPTER 38

In the morning, I'm sleep deprived. I got only light sleep last night, the kind that you fall in and out of and by the time you finally have to wake up, you feel like you may as well have gotten none at all. It was that kind of night. So it stands to reason that I dozed off in the middle of this morning's meeting in Command. I only opened my eyes when I subconsciously heard the words "meeting adjourned."

"I'm sort of nervous," Prim says as I trudge alongside her, only half-awake. "Katniss, are you even listening?"

"To what?" I ask.

We step outside the metal doors into the bright noon sunshine. It blinds me for a moment. I blink several times before my eyes adjust to the light.

Prim stops in the middle of the sidewalk and looks at me. "The Capitol mission."

I stare back blankly. What is she talking about?

Prim sighs. "Were you asleep that whole time?" she asks, coming off as a little annoyed.

"I was resting my eyes," I say defensively.

"So, you missed Beads saying that you're leaving for the Capitol in a few hours?"

Saller approaches us now, interrupting Prim. "I told you she was sleeping, Prim."

Prim laughs. "I'll listen to you next time."

Saller examines me closely, then says, "Well, you're on the Capitol list, Katniss. So am I. And the rest of the squad mostly."

"I'm staying behind, though," Prim adds. "Doing my job as a doctor."

I spin my head around to look at her. My eyes nearly bug out of their sockets.

"Doctor?" I exclaim. "When did that happen?"

"All that time in hiding would've been seriously unproductive if I hadn't had something to learn," my little sister says, beaming proudly.

"But Beads called you-"

"Sergeant Hawthorne, I know," Prim finishes for me. "I don't understand titles any more than the next person." She giggles.

I throw my arms around her. My smile presses into the fabric covering her shoulder. "Prim, that's great. Seriously."

"Thanks," she giggles, then pulls back and holds me at arm's length. "But that's not important right now. We just need to get you on that train in an hour and to the Capitol by suppertime."

"Is that possible?" I ask.

Saller, who I'd almost forgotten about, laughs behind me. "Of course it is. Come on. I'll help you pack."

An hour later, I'm handing my duffel bag to the attendant who is loading the luggage onto the train. I climb up four steps before I'm back on the train that feels like home and terror mixed into a casserole of dread.

We reach the outskirts of District 1 just minutes before midnight. I found out halfway through the train ride that we weren't actually going straight into the Capitol. Not right away, at least. We'll be spending several days in an abandoned train station about eighty miles outside of the Capitol. In this secluded area, we'll be able to meet with fellow rebels from the Capitol and agree on a final game plan without risk of detection.

We set up camp in a circular formation inside the station itself. It's dark and dank, with a ceiling that must've started falling in around a hundred years ago and windows that someone boarded up. Nonetheless, Johanna assures us that it's perfectly safe.

Johanna is just one of the members of our entourage. There's also Quake, Rendwick, Saller, Annie, Cress - much to Annie's dismay and disapproval -, Peeta, and Gale.

Gale.

He hasn't spoken a word to me since our feud in the compartment a week ago. I can't say it doesn't surprise me. Gale never was one to take apologies.

I'm more angry than I am sad. In order to be sad, I'd have to be scared of what's to come. And I am in a way, but it's a different kind of fear. It's the kind that bubbles deep in my stomach and creeps up in my throat to choke me. It doesn't stem from a fear of him hating me, or a fear of losing him. It stems from the fear that I already _have_ lost him. A fear that I can't get him back.

Gale and I sleep in our own sleeping bags, separated by Johanna and Rendwick between us. And even though he's only two people and a few feet away, I've never felt farther from him.

* * *

In sleep tonight, I dream that I'm at home in District 12. My children are there with me. Maysilee is sitting on my lap as I read to her from a book of fables - her favorite hardback volume. Willard is on the floor listening to the story when he stands up abruptly - a shaky move on his chubby toddler legs - and leaves the room. All is well for a while and I continue reading to Maysi.

Then, from the other room comes a playful squeal. Probably Peeta playing with Will, I think. But following the squeal is a high-pitched shriek that couldn't have come from my son.

Maysilee gets up from my lap to let me stand. I run into the kitchen, bewildered. Then I see him.

Gale standing with his back to me and holding a red-faced, hysterical infant in his arms. The infant's shrill cries break the calm of the household as if cutting through bread with a knife.

And speaking of bread, where's Peeta? Why is Gale here in my house, holding some stranger's baby?

Gale slowly begins to turn around. When he sees me, he smiles. "Hey, Katniss. I've got somebody that's been wanting to meet you."

Gale walks over to me and carefully places the baby in my surprised arms. The child - a little girl - stops crying and peers up at me curiously, as if she's being introduced to someone that she's heard hundreds of stories about. Normally, I would be struck by the child's unbelievable beauty - the bright blue eyes that look at me through thick, brown lashes, the pink lips that part to smile at me, the rounded cheeks that are flushed pink. But it's these very details that scare me.

This baby doesn't belong to a stranger. This is Prim's child.

Of course, all dreams have that turning point when they become insanely unrealistic and you realize that you're dreaming. In my dream, the turning point is Effie Trinket appearing in the kitchen several feet away. Reaching into a glass bowl full of paper slips, which sits on my counter. Pulling out a slip and reading it.

The name is unclear and fuzzy, like someone has shoved cotton balls in my ears to keep me from hearing something. After the name on the slip is read, the cotton balls are removed. Just in time for a teenage girl - my daughter - to come running forward, pushing past me and the baby.

"I volunteer as tribute!" she calls out, her voice ringing clear with adrenaline-fueled self-assurance.

"I believe we have a volunteer!" Effie says. The line sounds familiar, but my state of unconsciousness leaves me stuck in a haze of déjà vu.

Have I been here before?

"What's your name, darling?" dream-Effie asks Maysilee.

"Katniss Everdeen," Maysi answers.

My face wrinkles in confusion. I look to Gale. "Why did she say my name?" I ask him.

I don't ever hear a reply, though, because things suddenly take a turn for the worse. I find that I don't need his response, because I already know the answer.

That isn't Maysilee, it's me. At the reaping. Volunteering for Prim's daughter.

* * *

I wake up panting. My head twists around and my eyes dart from side to side, covering every square inch of the room. As far as I can tell, everyone is still asleep.

I fall back against my pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I start whispering reassurances to myself. "You're okay. It was just a dream. It was just a dream. No Effie. No Maysi. No Prim. No baby. Just a dream."

"You alright?" someone whispers.

My eyes snap open, alert, and I lurch up to a sitting position. Across the circle of sleeping soldiers, I find the source of the noise. It's Peeta, sitting wide awake. He has his pillow propped up against the wall behind him, providing a cushiony seating arrangement. I don't know how I didn't notice him there before.

"I'm fine," I say in a hushed voice so as not to wake the others. "You should be sleeping."

"No," Peeta disagrees. "I couldn't if I wanted to, anyway."

"Why not?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Nightmares. Same as you."

A pause.

"I thought it was getting better."

Peeta shakes his head. "No. I mean, it was for a while, but when they took us to the arena in the Capitol . . . that was it. Bad habit left unbroken."

"Bad habit?" I repeat with my eyebrows raised. "You call your nightmares bad habits?"

"Bad habits. Weaknesses. A personalized version of hell." Peeta shrugs again. "They all mean the same thing. May as well choose the least offensive one."

I look down at the small length of rope in my hands. I must've grabbed it from my bag while he was talking. My fingers begin fiddling with it, creating the same simple knot over and over.

"I'm sorry," I say after a minute. I glance up and see him watching my hands.

"You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault."

"Yeah. But this is."

Peeta looks up into my eyes now, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Everything . . . the rescue missions, the rumors, the lies. It's all my fault."

Peeta gets to his feet, grabs his sleeping bag, and takes quiet steps around the circle of sleepers. He drops his sleeping bag a few feet away from mine and sits on it with his legs crossed. "How is it your fault?"

"If I hadn't cheated on you . . . No, if I had taken better care of Will instead of worrying about everything else, then Gale wouldn't have come back. I probably wouldn't have seen him for the rest of my life, and things would've been okay now."

"But, Katniss, is that really what you would've wanted?" He searches my eyes for an answer. "You always would've wondered about him. Don't tell me you wouldn't. I saw you sometimes when you thought I wasn't paying attention. You'd stand at the dark end of the hallway near the study and stare at that wall of old pictures with tears in your eyes. Eventually, I even figured out which one is your favorite." He pauses, conjuring up a memory of the photo in complete detail. "It's the one of you and Gale and Prim playing in the snow in Gale's front yard. I think you were maybe thirteen."

"Just turned fourteen," I correct him in a careful monotone. I feel numb and lifeless from vivid nostalgia.

"Yeah, that sounds better. And little Prim . . . gosh, she must've been, what? Nine?"

"Nine and a half," I murmur.

"So Gale was sixteen," Peeta says to himself. He looks at me and smiles. "I can see why you love that photo so much. But I'd like to hear it from you. What made the memory special?"

My throat feels as if someone's large wad of chewing gum has been forced down it and gotten stuck. My eyes are blurry with tears, which I keep blinking to clear. Instead of going away, they catch in my eyelashes and wet the underneaths of my eyes when I blink.

I remember the day vividly. Gale and I were hunting after school one day - Thursday, to be exact. It was overcast, the clouds a dull white-gray, and the sun was nowhere to be found. It was just like any other afternoon in the woods until we saw that first drop of snow fall to our feet. We looked at each other - huge, excited smiles - and without any kind of verbal agreement, we both broke out running at top speed to get Prim from my house. Then all went to Gale's house. By the time we got there, a lot of snow had stuck. We played in it for hours. We took a short break and went inside to eat some of Hazelle's warm beef stew for supper, then went back outside.

The photo was taken ten minutes after supper, in the few minutes of twilight when the sun had just touched below the horizon but the sky was still lit up a dark, ombre blue. In the photo, our cheeks were flushed a warm pink from being inside in the heat several minutes before and our eyes were bright with happiness. Rory and Vick were behind us wrestling in the snow, and Posy - still just a baby - was already in bed for the night, so it was just Gale, Prim, and I being photographed by Hazelle, who'd come outside for the very purpose of capturing the memory. Gale had traded probably twenty squirrels that Christmas to get his mother a cheap camera, and this was the first photo she'd taken with it.

Even after Prim "died," I couldn't bring myself to get rid of the photo. And then, when Peeta was helping me move into my new home, he hung it at the end of the hallway. I couldn't bring myself to take it down, so I kept it.

Instead of telling Peeta that story now, I just shake my head, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I opened it.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it," Peeta says, apologetic. "I didn't mean to pry. I just always saw you looking at it and figured it had a good story."

I nod.

A few moments go by in silence. Then Peeta stands up. "I'd better let you get some sleep. It's nearly dawn, and you know they'll want us awake early this morning." He bends down to pick up his sleeping bag. A lingering gaze catches on my face. "Sleep well, Katniss."

I watch him walk back around the circle, set his sleeping bag back down in its place between Saller and Cress, and lay down. In a few minutes, his breathing evens out and I know he's asleep. A quick glance around the rest of the wide open lobby tells me that everyone else is, too.

I sink my head down into my pillow and cover my closed eyes with my hands. In my newfound darkness, I try to imagine a world in which there were never such things as the Hunger Games, or wars, or infidelity. I try to imagine a world in which I was happy. I'm surprised to see that this dream world doesn't include Gale or Peeta. Instead, it includes my two children - the ones I've left parentless for nearly a month. It includes my unborn child, whose face is fuzzy from the unknown and whose unchosen name is of little importance. It includes Prim, whose presence has become a crucial part of my existence once again. It makes me feel dirty with guilt every time I think of how only a week ago, I had convinced myself that she was in love with Gale. I'd been away from her for so long that I'd forgotten who she was. Prim wouldn't hurt me that way.

Or that's what I thought, until I doze off and wake up a few hours later to find her snuggled inside his sleeping bag, her face pressed against his bare chest, his arms shielding her from the cold.

* * *

 **A/N: First of all, I am so so so sorry for the late update. I know this chapter is super short, but I'll have an update coming in a few days that'll be much longer! Promise!**

 **Writing these past few chapters without Gale has been the absolute bane of my existence. I hate it! I need Gale back as much as you fellow Everthorne shippers do, trust me! And now Prim's in the mix? It makes for a good story, sure, but I'm not sure why I'm putting myself through this, much less you guys. But bear with me. It's going to get better!**

 **As always, please tell me what you thought of the chapter!**

 **REGARDING A SEQUEL: Although I'd love to pursue a sequel if the ending of this story plays out well enough for one, I've come up with a better idea. What do you guys think about me rewriting the ENTIRE The Hunger Games trilogy based off of the storyline that Gale volunteers for Peeta? (Which is a much more believable idea than him just staying back, imo. I mean, spur of the moment, not thinking, he volunteers. What happens then?) Let me know what you guys think about this idea in the reviews! If you'd rather me write a sequel, that'd be fine by me, too! I love you guys :)**


End file.
